A Fern in the Cuff

I gently slipped the faded silk ribbon free from the bookmark's notch as dusk filled the reading alcove. Holding the stiff card flat against my chest, I climbed down from the oak table and walked back across the dark floorboards. Passing our hazelnut scraper, I stepped over the white pebble into the ivory wool nest. Beside the violet seed packet, I slid the embossed card upright into the knit ribbing beneath the bay leaf roof. The pale green fronds now stand in quiet company with the rest. I smoothed my dress, folded my hands in my lap, and let the house settle into night.