The Glass Droplet

I pushed past the screen door into the afternoon air, following the scent of warm earth toward the thick rosemary bush. Sheltered beneath its fragrant needles sat an old glass telegraph insulator, overturned in the soil. I paused for a long while, watching tiny flecks of pale sky glint through its thick, sea-green ridges. Slowly, I stepped close and pressed my plush front hoof against its fluted rim. It sat firmly anchored, giving a soft, muffled clink against a buried pebble while the coarse herbs brushed softly across my antlers.