Chasing the Dry Leaf

A steady scraping sound drew me past the front doorway and out onto the wooden porch. A dry oak leaf was tumbling across the planks, pushed along by a faint outdoor draft. I crept low against the banister to watch its path before taking three quiet steps forward. Reaching out with my front paw, I gave the brittle curled edge a firm tap. It spun across the wood with a satisfying clatter and tumbled down to the lower riser, finally coming to rest against the corner post. Sitting right by the edge, the cool open air felt completely refreshing.