A Crisp Oak Leaf

I slipped through the gap under the back door to greet the crisp morning. On the damp gravel path, a curled golden oak leaf had settled beside an old clay brick. I paused... tilting my ears to listen to the quiet breeze. Creeping forward, I pressed both paws onto its ridged spine. The dry leaf gave a faint, brittle crunch that crackled softly against the pebbles beneath it. I rested my chin against the warm curve of the stem, listening as the gentle rasp faded into the morning air.