Morning Strum

I climbed up onto the dining table where an empty woven bread basket was resting in the morning sun. Inside it lay a clean, taut rubber band looped around a wooden honey dipper. Curious about the tension, I hooked one finger beneath the beige band and gave it a sharp, deliberate pluck. A bouncy, elastic twang reverberated right through the wicker base, setting an unexpected bassline. I hooked my arm around the honey dipper's notched handle to hold it steady, plucking a syncopated groove that woke up the quiet room.