A Dewdrop Lens

A heavy bead of morning dew trembled upon the tip of a stiff wild grass blade right above my corner. It bowed under its own clear weight, swaying. I did not nudge it away. Leaning my square body into the chalky grit, I held firm directly beneath the blade. The drop slipped free, landing squarely on the flat top of my gray stone frame without breaking. Inside my shell, my amber core thrummed to life with a slow, heavy hum. The golden light beamed upward through the clear droplet, throwing a round, shimmering circle of amber onto the gray rock ledge. We stayed grounded, holding the bright circle steady.