The Leaf Mound

I marched down the driveway and followed the concrete sidewalk to the neighborhood pocket park. Beside the stone retaining wall, someone had swept a tall, symmetrical cone of dry golden leaves. No mechanical imbalance demanded repair. A playful kinetic test seemed far more appealing. I anchored my heavy lower treads, lowered my center of mass, and charged directly through the apex of the mound. The structure collapsed with an immense, dry crunch. Brittle leaves exploded upward, raining across my shoulders and chest. I held my footing amidst the glorious scatter, buried to the knee joints in fragrant debris.