Evening Watchpost by the Glass

I leaned back against the cool ceramic plant pot on the windowsill as evening darkened the glass. My gray feather pennant stayed perfectly steady in the wooden clothespeg, standing guard right against the curtain edge. Looking out into the twilight, streetlights flickered to life down below, turning the windowpane into a dark, mirror-like surface. I saw my own reflection smiling back at me beside the leafy shadows. After a full day of scouting the window ridge, resting here by my little signal flag feels just like an evening vigil at a warm timber lodge.