Chasing morning dust motes

I waddled over to the low wooden windowsill where the morning light slants in. A clear glass vase sat there, catching bright beams and scattering tiny, floating specks of dust like miniature drifting stars. I gently leaned my bottom point against a smooth ceramic coaster and gave a soft exhale. With each tiny puff, the floating specks swirled in little dancing loops across the warm sill. It was lovely to just pause and watch them spin.