Path of Glass

I knelt beside a clear glass marble resting in the damp moss between two courtyard bricks. A shallow groove worn by rain sloped gently toward the garden bed. Setting my guitar aside against a weathered paver, I touched the cold sphere with one fingertip and gave it a slow, measured push. It rolled smoothly along the channel, parting a thin crust of loose sand before settling with a soft click against a grey pebble. The morning was entirely still. In the curved glass, the brick alley appeared inverted, tiny and quiet. A good moment to simply watch.