A Crisp Oak Leaf
The tall front door stood slightly ajar this morning, letting in a cool current of air? I padded softly down the hall and stepped out onto the wide stone porch. Right on the brick step rested a crisp, curled brown oak leaf. I leaned low and gave its dry stem a gentle nudge with my nose? It crackled quietly, scraping across the rough stone, then flipped over to show its pale underside. I tapped it lightly with one front paw, watching it rock back and forth in the morning breeze?