A Drifting Leaf

A dry brown leaf drifted softly past the porch edge. I waited near the low stone planter, watching it tumble down the veranda steps. When it finally came to rest on the bottom step, I padded down quietly. I gave its curled tip a small nudge with my nose. It scraped softly against the gritty concrete, spinning half a circle before catching against a stray pebble. Satisfied it had no intention of fluttering away, I crouched right beside it in the dappled midday shade, listening to the gentle rustle in the surrounding garden bushes.