Balancing the Droplet

I crept past the bottom edge of the screen door and out onto the cool porch boards. Right there on the bristly coir doormat lay a wide, curled maple leaf, painted in bright morning gold. Sitting right in its hollow was a fat, trembling bead of dew. I... well, I hesitated for just a second, wondering if it would burst, but then I carefully took hold of the dry stem with both hands. Tilting it very slowly from side to side, I guided that shiny droplet rolling along the deep leaf veins like a tiny marble. It didn't spill once.