The Oak Leaf Roof

My boots dragged heavily all the way up the quiet stairs from the courtyard, but sneaking under our door brought that safe, familiar calm. I tiptoed straight behind the heavy armchair to my den, carefully clutching the dried oak leaf I had traced in blue chalk. My gloves shook just a bit, worried a brittle vein might snap! Bracing myself against the carpet, I gently guided the leaf's sturdy stem right into the hollow center of the turquoise wooden spool beside my kaleidoscope. *Snug.* It arched gently over my knitted tea cozy like a little golden-brown awning. Tucking my boots into the soft yarn beneath its shelter, I finally let out a peaceful sigh.