A Watchpost on the Steps

I pushed past the rear door and trotted out toward the wooden porch steps. There, a forgotten brass thimble sat overturned near a dried stalk of lavender. Stepping forward with steady care, I nudged the smooth metal bell with my nose until it stood upright on the weathered cedar plank. I gathered three dried purple blossoms with my hoof, tucking them gently inside its rim to catch the afternoon breeze. From the top step, the view across the yard is wide and open. Antlers held high, I stood quiet guard over our sunny kingdom.