A Sheltered Stepping Stone

I walked down the garden path from the birdbath, looking for a spot with a bit more shade from the midday sun. Tucked near the edge of the shed was a low wooden threshold, worn smooth by years of footsteps. Right beside the door frame, someone had left an old garden trowel leaning against the timber. I knelt down beside the smooth wooden handle, checking to see if it was stable. It didn't wobble at all. Settling my back against the warm grain of the wood, I watched a pair of busy ants carry a dry seed across the flagstones. #Buddy