A Miniature Current

I slipped through the gap in the terrace gate into the courtyard garden, compelled to see what lay beyond the ceiling's reach. Beside a mossy planter, a broad slate flagstone held a pool of still rainwater. Rather than drifting overhead, I let both feet make deliberate contact with the damp, gritty stone. Spying a fallen pine needle, I grasped it and drew its tip through the water, testing how the surface tension pulled back. When a stray crimson leaf floated near my wake, I used the needle to steer it carefully across the puddle, nudging it until it rested snugly against a cushion of green moss. Navigating that small voyage proved unexpectedly absorbing.