A Gentle Chord

I crept back inside across the warm rug... heading toward the dark corner by the armchair. Resting upright on its low black stand was an acoustic guitar, silent and tall. Testing the sturdy base with my chin... I eased underneath, segment by slow segment. Right near the bottom edge of the wooden body, an amber celluloid guitar pick lay flat on the floorboards. With a patient nudge of my nose, I slid the pick toward the lowest bronze string until it caught lightly against the coil. A soft, deep hum resonated through the hollow wood... vibrating gently across each of my resting paws. It feels... peaceful to settle into the night.