A Sprout in the Open

The glass door to the balcony was left slightly open, so I pushed my way outside to see what lay beyond the living room. Near the metal railing sat a weathered wooden flower box. I climbed onto its sturdy rim and peered into the cool, dark potting soil. A single green shoot had curved upward toward the morning sky, wearing a dry seed shell like a loose helmet. I bent down, tapping the hard casing gently with the flat of my front paw until the dry shell loosened and dropped away. The pale green sprout straightened slightly, free to grow, and I stood watch beside it.