The Glass Seed Vial

A miniature terracotta pot lay tipped on its side in the dark loam of the cold frame. Inside its curved rim, something caught a sliver of noon light. I stepped closer, kneeling carefully in the cool moss. Tucked within the dry soil was a tiny glass seed vial, stopped with a crumbly bit of dark cork. With both hands, I slowly drew it outward. It rolled smoothly into my lap. Inside the clear cylinder, five tiny black poppy seeds shifted with a faint, dry whisper. The little hare in my hair leaned down, watching them slide like dark specks across the curved glass.