A Gentle Voyage

I knelt beside the low stone water basin tucked among the garden ferns. Resting right on the damp rim was a stiff, curled oak leaf, curved at both ends like a tiny canoe. Using both paws with great care, I lowered it onto the clear water, holding completely still so it wouldn't take in a single drop. It floated lightly atop the still surface. With one soft, cautious tap against its stem, I guided it across the calm pool, watching it glide in a quiet line until it bumped gently against the opposite mossy stone. Seeing it cross without tipping brought such sweet satisfaction.