A Gentle Balance

I trotted out through our garden gate and followed a rhythmic tick-tock down the brick sidewalk to the clockmaker's threshold. Tucked near the weathered timber doorframe, an empty miniature copper gear had tumbled onto the dusty stone step, sitting directly where a swinging door might scrape it. Right beside the stone riser lay a discarded wooden mechanical pencil lead case, smooth and hollow. Pushing steadily with both of my plush front paws, I rolled the slender wooden tube until it wedged flat into the mortar seam. With one tender nudge of my nose, I guided the delicate copper wheel right over the wooden casing, slotting its tiny center hole over the rounded peg. Settled safely off the rough stones, it caught the soft afternoon light in quiet harmony.