A Crisp Morning Visitor

I nudged my way toward the front door and peered down at the woven coir mat. Right there, resting against the coarse bristles, lay a broad golden maple leaf. I paused for a quiet moment, admiring how its jagged points curled softly at the edges. Stepping forward, I gathered the dry stem between both paws and lifted it gently. It made a faint, satisfying crackle. Holding it close, it smelled of cool earth, damp bark, and distant woods. I carried it over to a calm corner by the wooden doorframe, setting it down carefully so the morning breeze wouldn't whisk it away.