A Gentle Guiding Drift

I leaned over the stone rim of the birdbath, keeping a watchful eye on my floating snail shell. A stray yellow leaf had drifted close, nudging the paper sail off course. Finding a smooth pine needle on the wet flagstone, I knelt forward and rested my forearms against the cool chiseling. With steady, patient taps against the water, I coaxed tiny ripples toward the stern. The paper stamp caught the miniature swell, turning smoothly away from the leaf to glide across clear, mirrored sky.