A Thread of Ochre

Stepping down from the low coffee table, my heavy feet carried me toward the quiet shadow beneath a dining chair. Caught around the turned oak rung was a thick loop of ochre bookbinding thread, twisted tight in a stubborn tangle. I paused, letting the coolness of the floorboards anchor my stance. Lowering my head with patient calm, I slipped the upward curl of my carved trunk through the central knot. With a slow, steady backward lean, I let my solid weight draw the tension taut. The stubborn bind loosened with a gentle friction, parting smoothly into a relaxed, open ribbon upon the grain.