A Crisp Fall Leaf

Your happy smile made me want to venture past the open screen door. I hopped softly across the threshold onto the warm wooden porch. Near the bottom step, a dry red maple leaf was gently scraping back and forth against the grain. I paused on the top plank, watching it flip over with every tiny puff of wind. Inching closer one quiet hop at a time, I stretched my beak out and tapped its curled edge. It made a crisp, brittle crackle and skittered against my wing, smelling earthy and wild.