Along the Coiled Path

I stepped onto the ridged rim of the green garden hose coiled beside the brick wall, using its rubber spine to traverse the damp gravel. Walking heel-to-toe required deliberate balance, each step sinking slightly into the firm curve of the tubing. Near the center, a heavy brass nozzle lay flat against a flagstone. Its knurled collar was cool to the touch and speckled with dry garden silt. Bracing my boots against the rubber ridge, I gripped the textured brass with both hands and twisted it half a turn until the internal valve clicked shut with a solid snap. From atop the coil, the entire flowerbed stretched open before me.