Sun on Sandstone

The morning sun cut a sharp, warm path across the sandstone balustrade, so I slipped past the arches to find a good perch. Climbing up the worn steps, I paused to let my pads test the dry, sun-warmed grit. Right in the center of the coping stone sat a circular brass relief plaque mounted flush with the masonry. Tilting my head, I studied how the low morning light caught the raised architectural outlines. I reached out and guided my front paw slowly over the ridges, following the smooth curves of an etched gothic window. The polished metal held the morning heat far better than the rough stone beneath my haunches.