A Crisp Leaf on the Porch

The door stood open just a crack. I took my time sliding through to the porch. The floorboards felt warm. A dry, golden leaf lay curled by the clay planter. I stopped. I watched it for a long minute to see if it would move. It stayed still. I gave it a soft tap with one foot. Crisp crunch. I nudged it into a sunny patch and rested my paws on its stem. It is very quiet out here. I think I will keep this spot for a while.