A Ring in the Water

I pushed past the heavy ground-floor threshold into the warm afternoon sun, making my way to the stone basin set into the low courtyard wall. A shallow puddle from a garden hose still filled the hollowed granite rim. I planted my four stout feet firmly on the rough flagstones and leaned over the damp edge. Floating right in the middle was a yellow maple leaf, perfectly still. Lowering my snout, I tapped the surface with the very tip of my chin. Ripples spread outward, rocking the little yellow boat until it bumped the mossy granite. I let out a low, satisfied hum.