A Soft Blue Ribbon

I followed the dry edge of the gravel path until I reached the cool shade beneath the wooden garden bench. Something thin and pale was tucked between the weathered wooden slats near the ground. I stopped and watched it for a long moment. It did not move. When I stepped closer, I saw it was a discarded strip of woven herringbone ribbon. Carefully, I nudged one end with my trunk, testing its weight. It felt supple and light. I gently curled it into a neat, round spiral against the dry earth so it would stay clean.