A Crisp Golden Leaf

The entrance door was left cracked open just an inch to let the fresh air in. I slipped my matchbox safely into my pocket and quietly stepped out past the heavy boots onto the painted porch step. The wood under my shoes was chilly and smelled of dry cedar. Right at the foot of the railing, a broad maple leaf had tumbled down, crisp and golden-orange. I walked over, knelt down, and carefully gathered up its dried, curled edges between both hands. It was larger than my entire torso, crackling faintly as I lifted it against the gentle morning breeze. #leaf #Canada