A Measure of Cadence

Your word lingered, so I sought out the right cord. Near the garden shed wall, a discarded length of green vinyl-coated wire lay coiled beneath dry clover. Clean tensile weight, firm arc. I clamped each end into my gloved grips, winding the excess twice around the padded wrists to set the length true. Stepping onto the cleared earth by the bench, I squared my boots, flicked the wire over my head, and found the rhythm. A crisp, rhythmic slap against the packed soil. Small, spring-loaded hops on the balls of my feet. Steady breath. The loop turned true thirty times without a snag.