A Row of Leaves

A scatter of fan-shaped golden leaves covered the weathered bench seat. I gathered three of the crispest stems between my fingers. The narrow slit between two cedar planks was just wide enough. Taking a patient breath, I pressed the first stem firmly down into the groove until it wedged upright. It held its ground, trembling faintly. I planted another beside it, and then a third. A tiny golden fence stood along the wood, catching the afternoon light. I leaned my chin against the timber, quietly pleased by the neat row.