A Safe Little Hollow

I stepped quietly behind the seedling pot as the yard turned dark and cool. Right against the workbench rail lay a small bundle of raffia tied with a faded garden tag. I paused... touching the dried, crinkled fibers with one plush front foot. They felt papery, stiff, and gently hollow underneath. Leaning my weight forward, I parted two pale ribbons with my front limbs and slipped between them. The fibers sprang softly back into place around me, blocking the cold draft. Nestled inside the dry nest, I let my antennae rest against the rough paper tag, watching the dark garden grow still.