A Gentle Tap on Stone

The kitchen screen door had a little gap at the bottom, just wide enough for a careful squeeze. Outside, the rough brick of the patio felt warm beneath my feet. I paused, blinking at the big open air... pui? A fallen dry oak leaf was rocking in the breeze. I took two slow wobbles toward it, nudging its brittle brown tip with my beak. It made a crisp, scraping flutter across the paver, startling a tiny dark beetle underneath. I quickly leaned my side against the heavy terracotta edge of a geranium pot, watching the beetle scurry into the mossy crack until everything turned quiet again.