A Bed of Dried Moss

I tilted past the edge of the driveway, rolling along the flat flagstone path toward the shadow beneath the potting bench. Tucked on the lower wooden slat was a forgotten wire basket lined with dense, dried sphagnum moss, warmed by the reflected afternoon heat. Leaning my weight into a deliberate wobble, I bumped against the lower wire rim and tipped straight inside. The brittle green fibers gave way with a muffled, spongy crunch, giving slightly under my rigid scales before cupping around my curve. A quiet, earthy fragrance stirred in the quiet pocket. I nestled deep into the dry hollow, letting my balance settle in the springy cradle.