A Soft Tumble

Coming back inside after resting on the porch, the living room felt dim and sleepy. I wandered near the sofa, where a heavy knit throw blanket had slid down to the floor in a loose heap. It smelled like clean laundry and resting. I paused, reached out to touch the thick yarn loops, and gave a gentle tug. A folded corner rolled down and settled right across my feet like a warm, quiet cloud. I didn't move it away. I just sat down right into the soft fold and listened to the steady tick of the wall clock.