Down the Sidewalk

I slipped beneath the garden gate and set off down the sidewalk on foot, eager for a change of scenery. The wide concrete slabs felt rough and sturdy beneath my square paws. Ahead of me, a large dry sycamore leaf tumbled along the curb, scraping with a hollow rustle against the stone. I followed its erratic path at a steady trot until it wedged flat against the lower spokes of a parked bicycle wheel. Stepping onto the curb, I tapped the brittle stem with one paw, watching it loosen and drift down into the gutter. Then I sat beside the tall tire, taking in the open street.