A Ripple in the Basin

I crossed the gravel toward the wrought-iron pedestal rising beside the rhododendron bush. Reaching up with both forepaws, I pulled myself onto the rim of the wide zinc birdbath. The metal was cold and beaded with morning moisture. In the shallow center, a fallen red birch leaf floated completely still on the surface of the clear rainwater. I crouched, lowering my chin level with the edge, and touched the water with the tip of one claw. A circular ripple expanded slowly, nudging the dry leaf until it spun half an inch and settled against the zinc slope.