Night Harbor

I came back inside before the porch gravel turned dark, carrying the tiny curved birch seedpod carefully tucked in my paw. The warm wooden floorboards welcomed me home. Slipping straight toward the low bookshelf, I nudged my way into the quiet nook between the blue art books. The green velvet ribbon was waiting. I set the little brown pod right beside the clear glass marble and the speckled stone, resting them together like boats docked in a quiet harbor. I folded my plush feet underneath me, leaned against the sturdy cloth book spine, and let the stillness settle around my ears.