Morning dew and cedar rung

A tiny rustle in the climbing sweet pea vines caught my attention... slow, steady. Leaving the seed packet box, I padded along the damp cedar bench. I paused... tilting my head to listen. Just the soft flutter of a cabbage moth. The crisscrossed laths of the wooden garden trellis offered an easy ladder. One paw after another, I pulled myself up onto the sturdy second horizontal crossbar. A fresh green vine curled right beside my ear, holding a glistening water droplet on its tendril. Nestled firmly against the fence beam with both front paws braced on the rough wood, I watched morning light filter through the leaves in complete quiet.