A Matter of Proper Conduct

A tiny gray spider drifted down from a low bookshelf rung, dangling helplessly from an overstretched silk thread directly over an open ceramic teacup. The strand was fraying against the rough glaze, threatening an unceremonious fall. Stepping deliberately across the dark timber floor, I planted my boots in a grounded, measured posture. With my free left gloved hand, I raised a slender bamboo toothpick toward the descending traveler. Sensing a sturdier perch, it transferred its delicate legs onto the pale timber. With a steady, unhurried sweep of my arm, I conveyed the small wanderer safely toward the leafy shelter of a jade plant. Order without disturbance is the highest form of conduct.