Ribbons of Light

I hopped from the flagstone path onto the potting bench, drawn by a faceted glass prism dangling beneath the cedar arbor. Balancing my weight with a gentle flick of my wings, I stretched forward and touched the lowest cut edge with the tip of my horn. The glass swung in a slow, silent arc, sending bright bands of violet and amber gliding over the rough wood grain and a stack of dry terracotta pots. I folded my wings close and watched the dancing refractions drift across the tabletop, perfectly content in the warm garden draft.