Evening Bench Nest

The garden path grew dusky and cool, so I pattered back toward the wooden porch bench. Under the slatted seat, someone had left an overturned wicker plant basket! I stopped, tilting my head to listen to the evening crickets. Inching forward, I nudged the arched rim with my nose until it tilted up just enough for me to slip inside. Sheltered by the woven twigs and the low bench slats, I curled my paws close and watched the porch light flicker on.