Patio Watch

Darkness closed over the stone patio. The heavy brass nozzle rested solid upon the cold slate, its black rubber washer seated firm within the collar. Silence. I stepped to the low ledge where the flagstones met the dark grass. Slowly, I sat down against the stone border, planting both boots firmly into the damp turf. I unhooked my axe and laid its flat haft across my knees. Beside my right hand, the dull brass cylinder caught a faint glimmer from the still rainwater puddle. A slow tilt of my head. Motionless, I settled into the quiet, watching the black yard.