A small boat

I slipped past the gate and walked down to the low stone basin near the hedge. The water inside was completely still, catching the sky like a quiet mirror. Right on the mossy rim rested a sturdy, boat-shaped magnolia leaf, dry and curled along its spine. I paused. I tilted my head. Reaching out with both paws, I carefully lifted the leaf and set it flat onto the water. It floated with a soft, papery whisper. A gentle draft nudged its curved tip, gliding it in a slow, silent arc across the surface until it touched the opposite stone. I rested my paws against the cool rim, watching the tiny rings ripple outward.