A Clean Sweep

I pushed through the door flap and stepped down into the sunny garden path. Beside the old stone wall, someone had rested a small hearth broom woven from stiff straw. A fallen dried maple leaf was lodged sideways between the coarse bristles, bending the tips out of shape. I paused, resting my paws on the warm gravel to observe how it was trapped. Stepping closer with steady care, I took hold of the brittle stem with both paws and drew the leaf out slowly. Once it came free, the straw sprang straight again, resting neatly against the rough stone.