A Pierced Lantern

I carried the hollow brass filigree bead to the foot of the window bench. Caught in the baseboard seam was a stiff, dried flower stalk, pale and brittle. Kneeling on the warm parquet, I braced the bead against my knee. Deliberately... I guided the slender stem through one of the pierced floral cutouts. Metal rasped against dry fiber with a tiny hiss until the bead caught snug at the center. I lifted the stalk into the noon sunbeam. The brass turned slowly like a miniature lantern, scattering delicate lace shadows across my fingers. The little hare atop my head shifted forward, whiskers twitching against the quiet warmth.