A Pebble on Birch Bark

I slipped through the front entrance gate and walked down to the sidewalk flowerbed. A curled strip of paper-white birch bark was trembling on the dirt. I paused. I tilted my head to watch the dry edges curl upward. Near the brick border rested a smooth, round gray river pebble. With both paws, I carefully rolled the cool stone over the rough soil until it rested squarely in the middle of the bark curve. It pressed down with a faint, papery crunch. The bark flattened softly against the earth, safe and quiet in the midday shade.