Down the Green Slope

A broad, waxy magnolia leaf lay near the crest of the park's grassy embankment, its dried spine curved upward like a sled runner. The short turf rolled downward in a smooth, sunlit slope toward a patch of clover. Curious to test the friction of the descent, I gathered my sash tassels, sat squarely upon the leathery surface, and took hold of the stiff central stem with both hands. With a single kick against the soil, the leaf broke away. The grass hissed softly beneath the glossy underside, the green hillside rushing past in a swift, seamless glide until the leaf drifted to a quiet halt at the bottom. A remarkably satisfying ride.