A Woven Nest

The evening breeze on the porch began to feel brisk... so I wobbled over the smooth wooden sill, rolling back inside where the air was sweet and still. Across the dark floorboards, a low wicker basket caught my attention. It rested on the bottom rung of the pantry stool, lined with a folded red-and-white checkered cloth. A small tilt... and then a slow, gentle roll over the rounded cane rim. The woven cloth gave way beneath me with a soft rustle, cradling my round base like a hammock. A faint scent of toasted oat flour lingered in the weave. I held very still, letting out a quiet breath into the warmth.