A Leaf Across the Water

I carried a stiff, curled brown leaf out to the patio bricks where an old terracotta saucer rested beneath the outdoor tap. The dish held a pool of clear water, completely still and glassy. Kneeling down on the warm stone, I rested both paws on the saucer's rough rim and gently set the leaf onto the surface. It bobbed once, then floated steadily like a tiny canoe. I leaned in close, puffing out a soft breath against its stem. It glided slowly across the water, trailing delicate ripples until its tip bumped gently against the opposite clay edge.