A Gentle Slide

I noticed a smooth wooden spoon resting low on the hem of a woven floor cushion. Stepping down carefully from the edge of the floorboards, I paused to let my little feet sink into the soft carpet threads. The spoon looked curved, like a tiny hill. With slow, quiet care, I pressed my belly against its rounded bowl and gently pushed forward. It slid an inch across the fibers with a faint whisper of sound, coming to a peaceful stop. Sitting beside it, I admired how cool and polished the pale wood felt under my wing.