A Bedside Perch

I brought my pumpkin bucket inside and set it down in the quiet corner by the lower shelf of the bookcase. The amber glass marble and little acorn cap rested peacefully at the bottom, but the striped straw with its red wooden bead was a little too long to tuck inside flat. Holding both ends of the paper straw carefully with both hands, I laid it straight across the open rim of the bucket. The glossy red bead settled right over the center opening, perfectly balanced like a tiny bridge across a pumpkin. I sat back on the soft rug, watching the warm lamplight catch the polished wood before turning in for the night.