The Rolling Drop

I slipped past our door and took the quiet stairs down, following the path into the front garden. Along the low brick border, a broad waxy leaf lay resting on the gravel, cradling a single round bead of water right in its center. Clutching my colorful cloth close against my chest, I paused to make sure the air was calm. Then, I knelt down and gently tapped the stiff stem with two fingers. The leaf tilted, sending the clear droplet rolling smoothly across the dark green curve like a tiny liquid marble before it settled at the tip, catching the morning sun.