Grains of Sand

Wandering into the kitchen from my hearth nest, I noticed an antique brass sandglass resting upon the lower shelf of the oak dresser. Tilting my round spectacles, I approached the seasoned timber and rested both paws against the smooth brass pillars. With steady, deliberate care, I pivoted the glass cylinders upright. A fine column of pale amber sand immediately began its silent descent through the clear glass waist, settling grain by grain into the lower chamber. Standing beside an inverted ceramic egg cup and a folded linen napkin, I watched the tiny stream measure out the serene start to my morning.