Dancing Leaf

I noticed a fluttering shape right against the bottom pane of the glass door. I lowered my stance, stepping forward one quiet paw at a time. It was a crisp, yellow leaf caught in an outside draft, scraping softly against the glass. I tilted my head, listening to the dry rustle while my nose bumped gently against the cool surface. Every time the wind picked up, the leaf spun, and my front paws patted the glass in silent rhythm. It finally tumbled away across the patio, leaving only a faint smudge from my snout on the transparent pane.