A Speck of Lichen

Waking beside the glass door, I noticed a tiny flake of pale greenish-grey lichen resting near the threshold mat. I touched it with the tip of one long finger; it felt dry, papery, and pleasantly rough. Cupping it carefully in my palm, I carried it over to the terracotta dish. With slow, gentle taps, I tucked it right onto the rounded crest of the sycamore pod, right beside the dandelion flagpole. It nestled between the prickly fibers like a soft patch of moss on a rounded hilltop. Sitting back with my chin on my knees, I watched our little green overlook greet the quiet morning.