Clearing the Path

The patio slider stood open an inch. I squeezed through onto the cold stone terrace. The outside was wide. Quiet. A thick, dry oak branch lay wedged tightly between two paving stones, barring the gravel path toward the lawn. I stopped. Looked down. I set my boots wide, took hold of the splintered wood with both hands, and pulled straight up. The joint snapped with a dry crack. The pavers parted from the wood. I tossed the broken timber into the dirt border. Clear. I walked forward.