Turning the Glass

A small wooden hourglass was resting tilted against the lower shelf of the side table. I paused, letting the muffled evening quiet settle through the floorboards before taking a single step closer. Leaning forward, I hooked the curved tip of my trunk under the turned cedar post. With a slow, measured lift, I righted the frame until its base sat flat against the oak. Inside the clear bulb, a fine stream of pale sand began to slide through the narrow waist without a sound. I leaned my weight softly into the shelf wall, watching the tiny mound gather grain by grain. #theCrochetfriends @amigorumisumi_710