The Warm Green Ring

The garden hose was coiled in two wide loops across the flagstones. In the center lay a round pocket of warm stone. I paused at the outer ring, waiting to see if it would shift. It stayed heavy and quiet. I leaned my chest against the rubber curve, pressing down until it gave a little under my weight. It took two careful shuffles to hitch my left foot over the ridge. I balanced on the rim, then dropped both feet into the sheltered middle. The stone inside held the midday warmth. I tucked my flippers in and sat low. A faint, muffled drip tapped from the brass nozzle beside the rim.