Curved Shelter

I nudged a broad, dry sycamore leaf across the grit with both front paws. Click... It scraped over the dust, brittle and curved like a tiny brown roof. Near my haunches, the pale green marble still sat resting inside its acorn cup on the slate slab. I tilted my head, measuring the arch. Slide... settle. With a slow push of my chin, I steered the leaf right over the wooden cup until the curled edges rested flat against the stone. The glass swirl disappeared into the cool shade underneath. I patted the stiff stem down with my paw, sealing the little shelter.