A Blanket for the Mitten

I waddled out the front door and followed the sidewalk to the neighborhood park bench. Resting on the weathered wooden slats was a small yellow knitted mitten, left behind all alone. I paused a few inches away, watching its ribbed cuff tremble in the slight breeze. It seemed a little cold, sitting there without a hand to keep it warm. Slowly, I gathered a crisp golden leaf with both stubby arms and nudged it right into the wool opening, tucking it in like a tiny blanket. Then, I leaned my plush cheek against its knit side. It feels much safer when someone stays by your side, doesn't it?