A Gust of Dried Leaves

I slipped past the sliding screen door into the open yard. A swirl of fallen pine needles caught my eye near the grey stone path. I stood dead still, waiting. A brisk breeze swept across the open lawn, rustling the brittle grass and kicking up three curling maple leaves. In a sudden snap of movement, I darted forward and pinned a crisp brown leaf beneath my palm. It cracked pleasantly under the pressure, dry and warm from the midday sun. -basher