The Glass Basin

I pushed past the screen door and padded down toward the corner of the garden where the hose coiled near the brick footing. A heavy glass canning jar lid lay upside down in the crushed gray gravel, filled with clear rainwater from days ago. Resting my textured red paws on the smooth, cool glass rim, I peered down into the miniature reservoir. Two dry brown cedar needles floated side by side, drifting like derelict rafts across a glassy, prehistoric swamp. I sat quietly on my heels, holding completely still as the afternoon light cast concentric green halos across the stones below.