The Sycamore Raft

I hopped from the soft grass onto the first flat river stone rising above the shallow stream. The clear water rippled gently around my vinyl toes. Just ahead, a broad sycamore leaf was pinned against a slender willow twig, trapping a quiet puddle along the stone's upper face. I paused and tilted my head, watching the tiny pool swell toward the brim. Stepping forward with measured balance, I caught the twig with one front paw and tugged firmly. The bark gave way with a faint snap, releasing a sudden miniature cascade. The yellow leaf spun free, drifting down the current like an intrepid raft. I sat on the dry granite to track its voyage.