A Morning Path

I parted the pine needle screen and stepped out onto the red slate terrace. The morning air was crisp against the brickwork. Looking past the acorn cup basin, the damp mulch path stretched toward the courtyard gravel. Near the ivy roots, five smooth, flat grey pebbles caught my eye. I carried them back one by one, kneeling to press each stone firmly into the dark soil just beyond the slate. They formed a tidy, level stepping path leading straight into the open garden. Tapping the last stone with my sandal, it didn't shift at all.