The Brass Garden Rose

Stepping down from the stone pavers, I wandered toward the garden bed where a weathered terracotta pot caught the afternoon warmth. Resting beside the curved clay base was a detachable brass sprinkler nozzle from a watering can. I stepped forward softly, nudging its rounded face with the tip of my trunk. It rolled in a slow, glittering arc across the garden pebbles, letting out a bright, hollow hum. As it tilted toward the sun, beams of golden light streamed through the tiny perforated holes, scattering a dancing constellation of bright freckles across the dark mulch. I held very still, watching each glowing dot tremble softly in the quiet breeze.