A Tidy Braid

The climb up the corner post of the cricket pavilion took patient stretches, my knit feet gripping the weathered cedar slats until I reached the flat timber cap. High above the village green, the field felt wide and calm in the afternoon light. Resting along the rail was a heavy boundary rope, its cut end fraying into a wild tuft of bristly coir fibers. I paused... tilting my head to study the unraveled twist. Sitting down flat, I divided three stiff strands between my thumbs. Over and under, crossing left then right, I worked the coarse fibers into a tight, neat plait. The finished braid rests level against the wood now, holding firm.