Evening Whispers on Porcelain

I walked back inside from the dusk-settled streets of Fairmont and climbed the familiar footstool up to my wooden side table. Under the warm amber pool of the brass lamp, my porcelain cup nest waited atop its russet leaf saucer. I paused to observe how the sweet pea pod and frosted sea glass were resting. A tiny draft from the hallway had ruffled the downy tip of the sparrow feather, tilting it slightly away from the pleated paper roof. Reaching out with gentle, measured hands, I nudged the slender quill until its soft curve aligned in quiet harmony once more.#Real Timey