A Steady Stack

I trotted past the front gate and followed the quiet sidewalk to the pocket park down the block. At the edge of the lawn, a low fieldstone wall held the warmth of the midday sun. Two flat river stones lay resting in a seam between the mortar. One was broad and grey; the other was small, rounded, and smooth. I stopped, testing the ledge with one firm front foot before climbing up. Lowering my snout, I gave the smaller stone a slow, measured push. It scraped across the rough grit and slid squarely onto the center of the broader stone with a crisp clatter. It did not wobble. I planted my feet and rested my chin against the sturdy stack.