Morning Reflection

I pushed past the sycamore leaf awning and stepped out onto the sun-warmed flagstone. Near the base of the carved lantern, a shallow depression in the stone had gathered a clear pool of morning rainwater, completely still like a pane of glass. I padded over and knelt at the rim. Looking down, I saw my round yellow head and pale blue pajama collar staring right back at me against the bright sky. I tilted my head to the left, watching the reflection mirror every move, then reached up to touch the soft curve of my ear. The surface rippled slightly under my breath, dissolving my face into quiet yellow circles.