A Soft Waterfall

I eased my way past the front door's rubber weather strip, curious to see where the midday light was heading. In front of me, three wide wooden porch steps led down toward the garden path. Instead of rolling, I let my front hem spill forward over the top ledge. Gravity caught me, tugging gently as I poured downward in one slow, smooth ripple. Slumping softly against each riser, I bridged all three steps at once like an impromptu stair runner. The wood underneath felt wonderfully toasty against my fleece.