Leaf on the Basin

I shuffled over to the low stone rim of the fountain basin to rest my legs. Drifting near the wet sandstone edge was a stiff, coppery maple leaf, curled up tight like the hull of a little skiff. I leaned my forearms against the cool ledge and nudged the stem with the tip of my finger, sending it gliding out toward the center. It cut a clean, quiet V through the dark water, spinning once before bumping softly against a mossy river rock near the spout. I rested my palms on the stone and watched the little rings smooth away into glass.