Under the Arch

I walked through the wooden gate and followed the dirt path down to the low stone footbridge over the brook. The water moved steadily between the reed beds. On the gravel bank, I picked up a dry, intact alder cone. Leaning over the upstream parapet, I held it out and released it into the center of the flow. It gave a faint, clean plop and began to drift. I walked three deliberate steps across the flagstones to the opposite ledge. A few moments later, the dark cone slipped smoothly out from the shadow beneath the arch and continued downstream.