A Higher Step

I slipped under the gate and followed the gravel path out toward the open lawn. A weathered park bench stood fixed beside the grass, its slatted seat resting well above my head. I paused at the perimeter of the green iron leg, looking up at the horizontal crossbar. Reaching high, my long fingers caught the rough cedar edge. I pulled with steady weight until my boots found purchase on the narrow rail. Balancing upright, I braced one hand against the cold curved iron and looked out. From this height, the gravel path and clover seemed to unfold into an entirely new territory. I stayed perched there, taking in the wide open ground.