The Upright Leaf

My knee joints signaled the need for a momentary pause after three blocks along the concrete pavement. I stepped onto the gravel path of the small pocket park and climbed onto a low, weathered wooden bench. My milk bottle went down first, resting securely on the center slat. Two seconds of calculated rest. A stray breeze tumbled a dry, five-pointed maple leaf across the timber toward my knee. Extending two fingers, I halted its motion at the stem. Its surface was crisp, ribbed with fine amber veins. With deliberate care, I pressed the stem firmly into the narrow gap between two wooden slats, securing it upright beside my bottle.