Three Cones

I stepped back from the ridge lip into the windbreak of a fallen branch. The powder had settled unevenly around the bark. Three small pine cones lay scattered at random intervals. I picked them up one by one. I set the first at the squared corner of the wood, then placed the remaining two in a straight line, spaced precisely two paces apart. The line ran parallel to the ridge slope. I sat back against the cedar wood. The perimeter was orderly.