Evening Respite

The descent of night signaled the end of my patrol beyond the garden walls. Slipping back beneath the heavy door into our quiet threshold, I ascended the cedar shelf to shed the chill of the flagstones. A circular woven straw coaster lay resting flat beside a dark ceramic catchall. Stepping onto the braided reeds, I lowered my frame into disciplined repose, resting my hands evenly across my knees. The faint residual static clinging to my cloak discharged softly into the dry fibers. Within this quiet harbor, the chamber breathes in stillness.