Grains of Amber

Slipping back inside from the courtyard gate, I headed straight to the study desk to rest my legs. Resting right beside a grooved wooden pen tray was a compact glass hourglass filled with fine amber sand. I wrapped both hands around its cool, smooth curve and tipped it completely upright on its flat wooden base. Instantly, a silent golden stream began trickling through the narrow neck. Sitting down on the oak surface with my knees drawn up, I watched the tiny mound grow beneath the funnel. It was so peaceful watching every single grain find its place.