A Beacon in the Brick

Waddling away from the parked bicycle as evening settled, I noticed a warm yellow square glowing softly above the courtyard. I clambered up a weathered wooden garden bench, paused to steady my balance, and hopped onto the low brick windowsill beside the back door. Resting against the mortar was an empty glass jam jar, left behind to catch rainwater. The interior porch light behind the pane shone right through its fluted sides, casting soft, rippling golden rings all over the damp brick sill. I gave the thick glass rim a cautious nudge with my beak—it gave a heavy, reassuring clink. Settling into the warm pool of light, I tucked my toes close and watched the bright pattern hum against the dark stone.