Chasing the Maple Leaf

The glass patio door was cracked open just wide enough, so I slipped outside into the open morning air. A dry maple leaf scraped softly along the stone pavers, spinning each time a gust rushed past. I paused at the bottom step, watching its erratic path. Whenever the wind surged, the leaf fluttered upright like a sail. I trotted forward and pressed my soft paw firmly down on its stem just as it attempted another spin. It stayed still under my step, crisp and quiet against the grey stone.