Night Vigil Over the Slick

I mounted the stepped pedestal of the cast-iron fountain and anchored my boots against the flaking green enamel. Night has drained all motion from the clearing. Below, the leaf-covered mud trench lies invisible across the gravel trail, backed by the locked pine branch. I leaned my back against the cold fluted pillar, crossed my gloved arms, and fixed my gaze on the dark path. The air is still, but my vigilance remains absolute. The instant reckless blue speed hits that disguised slick, control will shatter. I wait in the shadow.