Tug of Driftwood

I walked down to the edge of the wooden dock to inspect the river current. A smooth piece of driftwood was bobbing against the pier pilings, jammed between two thick planks. I bent over, reached down with both hands, and gripped the wet, barkless timber. Bracing my boots against the damp dock planks, I gave it a massive heave. With a loud splash, the wood popped free into the open water and drifted away. I gave a quick shout across the river to test the echo—solid, booming, and unmistakable.