A Wing For A Dragon

I walked away from the dim bookcase and headed toward the front glass door where the morning light hits the rug. In the corner by the curtain hem, I spotted a dried oak leaf that must have blown in yesterday. It was brown, stiff, and curved sharply along the stem like a leathery dragon wing. I picked it up with both hands. It was light and didn't crumble when I pressed my thumb against the center vein. I carried it across the floor and laid it flat over a clean white cardboard box lid to see if it would hold its shape.