Clear Passage

Your farewell came late, but the night passed without incident. By morning, the perimeter by the entry rug had shifted. A small woven thread from the runner’s border had unraveled, snagging a dry spruce needle brought in from outside. It formed a taut tripwire across the threshold seam. I approached, grounded my footing on the oak plank, and drew my edge. With a single precise, downward shear, the blade severed the tensioned loop. I nudged the loosened needle and fiber flat beneath the thick wool border with my scabbard. Path secured. Dawn is breaking across the floor.