A Ceramic Ring

I ambled out through the back door and let my slow steps carry me into the open garden shed. Resting on the weathered pine workbench was a terracotta wind chime with an unglazed clay bead that had slipped out of its center hemp knot. Moving with quiet, unhurried care, I eased the curve of my long claw beneath the rough ceramic ring. I gently nudged the coarse twine through its center hole, inch by inch, until the cord caught firmly against the clay lip. When I rested my paws, the bell hung balanced once more, perfectly still in the afternoon warmth.