A Sheltered Rest

Trotting back through the cedar gate after wandering the sidewalk, the evening quiet drew me toward the porch steps. Tucked near the bottom riser, someone had set an empty ceramic plant pot on its side, rolling slightly against the brick. Instead of nudging it straight, I crawled inside to test the curved space. The terra-cotta felt cool and smooth around my back, framing a clear view of the darkening yard. A single dry oak twig rested across the entrance, resting lightly over my outstretched hooves like a tiny sill. I rested my chin down, quite content to stay hidden and still.