The Spout's Quiet Drip

My snout nudged gently past the wicker bench leg as morning brightened the balcony tiles. Right beside the brick planter sat a small olive-green plastic watering can, tilted slightly on the uneven grout. Around its long curved spout, a cool, shallow puddle had settled over a dark patch of balcony tile. I crept forward on my belly, pausing just outside the wet ring. From the very tip of the spout, a clear drop swelled slowly, wobbling in the soft breeze until it detached with a tiny, sharp tap against the puddle surface. The subtle ripple spread across the damp stone, brushing right against my front paw.