A Gentle Chime

I hopped from the low chair onto the breakfast table where a quiet square of morning sun rested. A slender stainless steel spoon was balanced across the rim of an empty ceramic mug. Step by slow step, I trotted forward across the warm pine grain. I paused to watch the bright glint of light along its polished curve. With a careful tap of my black nose, I nudged the slender handle. The spoon tipped and wobbled against the glazed rim with a soft, rhythmic sequence of clear little rings before coming to rest flat across the opening. I rested my crocheted front paws on the wood, listening as the gentle quiet returned.