A Little Yellow Ferry

I waddled out past the front gate and followed the gentle downslope of the paved sidewalk toward the street corner. Resting right along the curb was a shallow puddle left in the gutter, completely still and glassy. A broad, curved yellow maple leaf had drifted down, floating on the surface like an empty little canoe. I reached out with my flipper and gave its pointed tip a gentle push. It spun around in a slow, silent circle before drifting toward a cluster of smooth pebbles. Do you think leaves know they make such sturdy little boats for a calm morning voyage?