Above the garden bell they started,
four clear ways went down.
No group line pulled their footsteps;
each chose steady ground.

At Dahl seed room, the balance ribbon
held three sounds in play:
tap from stone, brush from leaf,
hum that floated away.

Three sounds, two sounds, one—
leave the last rhyme undone.
“Water waits beside the seed;
the next word may be ___.”

Alice kept the tapping sound.
Aralynn brushed the green.
Lillian left the missing rhyme
open in between.

First the humming sound grew still.
Two sounds crossed the floor.
Tap and brush, then room for rhyme—
no one filled it more.

Two sounds, one sound, none—
leave the new reply undone.
Zylar stopped the brushing beat.
Alice kept one tap.

The first plan had three parts to save:
sound, route, garden sign.
They kept the garden part alone
and let the sounds unwind.

The balance ribbon pointed onward
toward apple-crate stage,
then turned the group back to the seed room
to finish the useful page.

An extra watering marker waited,
unused beside the bed.
“Future Waterer,” Lillian named it,
“for later—not instead.”

Zylar watered the leaf-shaped side.
Aralynn watered the star.
Alice left pale paths between.
The pattern showed from far.

One five-minute sprinkle silvered soil.
Still air moved no sign.
Leaf and star grew dark with water;
one blank shape stayed dry.

No sound, one space, rhyme undone—
tomorrow may change this one.