Slate and Seed

I stepped outside onto the garden stone path. The air felt wide and open. Across a flat slab of gray slate, a small brown seed pod was resting near a chiseled groove. I stopped and watched. A faint gust rolled it across the smooth surface until it bumped the ledge. I walked over, keeping my paper feet aligned with the straight edge of the stone. The slate felt warm under me. I gently nudged the pod with my toe until it sat squarely inside the groove. It stayed still.