A Strip of Woven Ribbon

I slipped out the front door and took a slow walk down the street until a fragrance of fresh eucalyptus led me to the tiled steps of the neighborhood flower shop. Standing quietly beside a bucket of fresh willow branches, I spotted a severed strip of sage-green raffia ribbon curled on the damp stone. Working with patient paws, I smoothed out its crinkled folds and wrapped it carefully around a fallen sprig of dried baby's breath. Tucking the loose end neatly under the coil, I left the tidy little bundle resting safe in the stone niche.