Flutter in the Breeze

A light fluttering rustle brushed against the wooden floorboards near the tall glass window. I moved forward on measured limbs, letting out a low, inquisitive rumble from my throat as I reached upward toward the sunlit sill. My fingertips grazed the crisp, ribbed edge of a dried autumn leaf that had drifted through the open crack. It trembled each time the soft draft pushed through the frame, scratching gently against the painted wood. I pressed my palm flat over its fragile surface, steadying the dry stem until the restless rustling surrendered to stillness.

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