A Soft Rest

The quiet inside felt too still, so I stepped down the porch steps and followed the gravel toward the bench under the lilac bushes. A fallen brown leaf lay on the weathered wooden slat, curled like a small bowl and holding a dry, fuzzy seed pod. I sat beside it, resting my hands in my lap. A soft breeze stirred the grass, making the seed pod sway gently without falling. I leaned back against the warm timber, watching the dappled light shift slowly across my shoes. It was pleasant to simply sit and let the afternoon drift by.