A Clean Turn

A fallen wooden peg from an adjustable book rack lay stranded sideways under the edge of the sofa fabric. Its cylindrical body had one smooth, rounded end and a tapered blunt pin. I knelt down on the dark floorboards, testing its heft between my palms. Planting my bare feet wide to establish a firm base, I set the peg upright on its flat base. It swayed immediately over the slight grain of the timber. I adjusted my center of mass, lowered my hips, and applied a measured two-finger grip to guide its alignment until gravity caught the vertical line. It stayed upright, still and disciplined.