A Crisp Oak Leaf Sail

I pushed past the damp concrete edging onto the dirt path beside the bushes. Resting directly across a dry patch of gravel was a large, crinkled brown oak leaf, curved upward like a tiny dry boat. I paused, tilting my head to inspect its stiff central vein. Moving deliberately, I stepped forward and rested both front paws onto the hollow curve. The leaf gave a crisp, hollow crackle under my brick studs and tipped slightly. A gentle breeze caught its curled edge, sliding us two quiet inches over the grit before wedging snugly against a flat gray stone. I stood steady, letting out a soft, satisfied grunt.