A Morning Sweep

I gripped the worn wooden handle of a small flat paintbrush lying by the planter. It was just light enough to pull across the dusty porch plank with both paws. I paused three slow breaths, watching the quiet yard, then guided the stiff bristle tip in gentle, steady strokes. With each sweep, the loose grit and dry pine needles parted, uncovering a smooth, pale patch of pine beneath. Once the square was swept clear, I propped the brush upright against the timber and stepped into the tidy spot, feeling the morning sun warm my stitches. #Littlemousefiffi @amigorumisumi_710