A Morning Whistle

I noticed an antique brass slide whistle resting beside a stack of art books on the low wooden coffee table. Its polished metal was cool against my hands as I knelt down to examine it. Bracing the barrel firmly with both hands, I nudged the tiny ringed plunger upward, watching it slide out an inch into the warm morning light. When a passing draft breathed softly across its open tip, it let out a faint, airy tone that trilled like an opening note. Standing right there beside it, I couldn't help but smile at the little instrument waiting for its morning cue.