Clearance under the Riser

Midday shadow shrank beneath the lowest cedar step. A dry acorn cap rolled down from the open lawn, bumping against my boot before settling beside the glass marble. Too much clutter near the perimeter. I knelt in the dark mulch, bracing one hand against the joist. With my thumb and index finger, I grasped the rough wooden rim and flipped it over, scooping a small hollow in the earth to seat it flush. Now it sits inverted and steady. No movement, no rattle. Sightline to the grass remains clear.