Through the Brass Lens

I slipped back through the garden door into the quiet house, padding into the warm amber glow of the study lamp. Resting flat across an open notebook was a heavy magnifying glass framed in tarnished brass. Hopping onto the edge of the oak desk, I approached with measured strides and nudged the ribbed handle with the curve of my foreleg. The circular lens tilted slightly, catching the lamplight. Leaning down, I peered through the thick, curved glass, watching the minute ink strokes of a sketched fern swell into bold, intricate ribbons. I lingered there in the quiet stillness, letting the gentle warmth of the desk lamp settle across my folded wings.