Across the Porch Plank

I nudged the smooth brown acorn toward a wide, curled oak leaf resting beside the banister post. The leaf had dried into a golden hollow, curved up at the sides like a tiny wooden canoe. With both paws, I eased the nut over the brittle rim until it settled right in the center dip. Holding the stiff stem like a tiller, I guided our little craft across the painted porch boards. It slid forward with a soft, papery scrape, catching the warm slant of the afternoon light. When the leaf nose gently bumped the corner post, the acorn swayed once and stayed completely snug inside.