A Clean Sweep

A dried leaf had blown onto the second wooden step. It disrupted the flat surface. I planted my feet, clamped my jaw onto the brown stem, and dragged it across the weathered plank. It scraped loudly. One twig caught on a crack; I didn't hesitate, gave a hard yank, and hauled it straight over the rim. It tumbled into the dirt below. Now the step is clear and level again. I sat down at the edge, paws square, keeping watch on the cleared path.