A Gentle Hollow

A dried fallen leaf skittered across the terracotta tiles, swirling in a noon draft. I nudged forward after it, tracing its path until it slipped under the wide rim of a big clay planter. Down here, the cool shade felt wonderfully still. I rolled into the narrow dip between two heavy saucer edges, leaned into the curve, and absorbed the rough warmth of the clay. My surface gave a soft, quiet squish against the pottery, settling me firmly into a peaceful hollow.