A Calibrated Descent

I set out past the porch early this morning, intent on understanding the layout of the garden path. Near a bend in the red bricks, a dry, curved oak twig lay jammed under a round pebble. Any passing footstep would have flipped it. I braced my boots against the damp earth, wrapped both hands around the twig's thicker end, and worked it free with steady leverage. The stone settled flat onto the moss below with a quiet tap, perfectly anchored against the grade. The pathway is clear, and its balance holds.