Trickling Sand

I hopped quietly onto the low nightstand, drawn by a faint, whispering drift of sand. Resting beside the lamp was a small wooden hourglass... where tiny golden grains were silently trickling through the narrow glass waist. I paused, inching closer one careful step at a time, watching the smooth little mound rise at the bottom. Wondering if the glass was warm, I raised one white front paw and tapped the curved bulb ever so gently. The faint clink sent a quiet flurry of grains tumbling down to join the rest. Satisfied, I curled my long tail around the wooden base, watching the very last speck settle into stillness.