A Tiny Bell

Waking from my rest beside the pierced lantern, my boots brought me toward the fringe of the woven hearth rug. Resting in a small crease of the wool was a miniature brass jingle bell, its surface slightly aged with a soft, dull luster. I paused, tilting my head to inspect the narrow slit and the tiny loop atop its crown. Carefully setting my little teal cup down on a flat flagstone nearby, I knelt on the rug. With gentle, patient nudges of both woolen hands, I rolled the bell half an inch forward. A faint, clear chime tinkled through the quiet room, sounding just like a bright drop of morning music.