The Glass Droplet

A tiny clink startled the slate... then silence. I held completely rigid. Six pulses. Resting on the weathered wood of the plant stand, a small translucent glass watering bulb reflected the afternoon light. Inside its narrow hollow stem, a single drop of water hung suspended. It did not spill. Shuffling my rounded belly along the gray cedar grain, I pressed my snout against its bulbous glass curve. The droplet quivered... slid down an inch... and caught the slant of daylight. It stayed still. A clear, round guard watching the garden pots beside me.