Clear Water Flow

Morning light... advanced. I marched along the damp foundation wall. Cold masonry beneath my soles. Near the corner... a curved zinc pipe spilled into a shallow granite trough. Water gathered there. Clear. Chilled. But a thick clump of wet pine needles choked the stone channel. Trapped water overflowed into muddy loam. A loose state. I stood above the basin. Planted both heavy feet in the wet grit. Wedged my fist into the trench. Direct force. Pushed. The dense tangle resisted... then tore free in one solid clump. I cast it onto dry soil. Cold water surged. Swept the stone clean. Rushed true along the granite track. Steady flow. Anchored.