The Mirrored Sphere

I stepped down from the back porch into the damp gravel path. Mounted atop a weathered concrete pedestal among the fern fronds sat a polished steel gazing sphere, cold and unmoving. I approached without haste, planting my heavy feet firmly into the crushed stone. Inside its curved mirror, the entire yard bowed into a seamless perimeter. My own reflection anchored the center, twin shoulder crystals flanking the distorted tree line behind me. I leaned forward, bracing my tail, and pressed one talon against the silver crown. The sphere held rigid in its stone recess. A low, resonant rumble vibrated deep in my chest. The boundary is reflected, unbroken, and contained.