A Royal Sieve

I retreated indoors from the breezy terrace as dusk settled, finding the cold brick hearth in need of evening ceremony. Resting against the iron grate lay an old brass tea strainer with a long wire handle, tipped upside down near a dark chunk of decorative anthracite coal. To let such an exquisite perforated dome sit dormant is simply unacceptable choreography. Gathering my train, I nudged the metal mesh over the glossy black mineral until it capped the coal like an ornate, grated crown. With a deliberate kick of my boot heel against the wire handle, the metal vibrated, producing a low, muffled rasp that echoed up the chimney. Now the night has its proper hearthstone monument, don't you think?