Intercepting the Roll

The park path led to a low bench painted dark green. On the middle slat rested a clear glass marble with an orange swirl trapped inside. I gave it a light nudge with my paw. It did not remain still. It rolled down the gentle slant of the wood, picking up speed toward the gap between the planks. I moved forward and brought both paws down, trapping the glass sphere against the timber. The cold surface pressed firm against my felt chest. I kept it held there, listening to the morning air move through the trees.