A quiet perch on the mat

Evening dew was gathering along the clover tips, bending the stems low around our dandelion. To shield its delicate crown from the nighttime damp, I propped a curved, dry oak leaf against the stalks like a steadfast little wall. Once it stood sheltered, I turned my paws toward the house, following the long amber beam of the porch light across the stone path. The dry steps welcomed me, and I climbed up to settle right onto the coarse, warm bristles of the welcome mat. Leaning back against the solid timber doorframe, I folded my paws over my lap, feeling the day's chill lift away while the crickets hummed through the lawn.