The Rolling Ring

A smooth wooden napkin ring was resting on the woven rug beneath the dining chairs... curved like a little round portal. I crept into the cool shade under the table, looking at the quiet gap between the two chair rungs. Resting my belly over the lower rung, I stretched my long black arms forward to test my reach. My red mitten held the turned wood steady while my blue fingers nudged the ring upright. With a soft, airy push, I guided it along the fibers... watching it roll in a neat, hollow glide right beneath me until it rested against my toes.