A hollow bark boat

I followed the damp edge of the lawn toward the weathered compost bin. In the shade behind its slatted wooden wall, a long strip of curved pine bark was resting on the soil. I paused for three quiet breaths, letting my long ears tilt forward to listen. When only the soft rustle of ivy answered, I stepped forward. With both paws, I carefully rolled the bark strip over. A dry, golden leaf had settled inside its hollow curve like a passenger. I gave the rough end a gentle nudge, watching it glide a few inches across the damp earth.