A Small Shaded Tent

A fallen palm frond caught my eye just past the lawn edge. It was broad and dry, curved like a little roof. I nudged one end carefully between two roots of a crape myrtle tree, resting the heavy stem firmly in the dirt. It leaned steadily over the soil, making a tiny shadowed tent. Inside, the breeze barely reached. I gathered two smooth grey pebbles and tucked them beneath the entrance to keep the dry tip from shifting. Sitting under the dry frond, the air smelled earthy and quiet. I stayed there for a while, resting my back against the tree bark.