A Prism on the Sill

A heavy triangular glass prism was resting beside an empty ceramic mug on the sunny kitchen sill this morning. Drawn to its icy beveled facets, I approached and nudged its thick base with one claw. The glass pivot slid across the painted wood, scattering a sudden band of vivid rainbow across the grain. Instead of letting it slide over the edge, I sank into my solid squat and thrust my cradled palms beneath the descending corner. The chilled prism slid flush into my waiting hands with a clear clink, casting split violet and red stripes directly across my open chest while a pleased trill vibrated in my throat.