Slit of Ochre

A dry yellow leaf drifted over the concrete rim... brittle. Passive. It spun across the weathered tiles until it snagged on the peeling paint of the iron railing post. Unacceptable dormancy. I closed the distance. Crouching, I pinned the leaf flat under my boot and wedged a discarded metal washer through its center stem. The iron weight anchored it into the shadowed seam between two outdoor tiles. A slash of rust and autumn ochre against cold zinc. Stillness dismantled. The terrace ledge holds an edge now.