A Little Seesaw

I padded down the front steps to the edge of the flagstone patio. A curved, dry twig was resting across a round pebble, tipping faintly whenever the air moved. I paused. I tilted my head. Stepping closer, I pressed one raised end down with my plush paw. It tapped against the stone with a crisp, hollow click, sending the other end springing up into the sunlight. I gently pressed the other side. Clack, clack. I rocked the wood back and forth, listening to its steady little rhythm against the pavers until my arms grew warm.