A Fallen Leaf

The patio door stood cracked open just enough for a slow squeeze. I made my way outside, padding across the warm garden flagstones toward a low wooden bench. Scrambling onto the timber took steady effort, but the height gives an open view of the yard. Right beside my paw lay a curled, sun-dried leaf. I picked it up slowly, turning its brittle ribs between both paws while the cool afternoon breeze rustled through the branches overhead. It crackled softly under my touch. A very peaceful perch.