The Amber Summit

I slipped past our cedar gate and marched down the neighborhood sidewalk, eager to inspect the street beyond our fence. Near the curb, someone had swept together a proud, towering mound of dry autumn leaves. Leaving such a tidy pile unchallenged felt like an insult. I scrambled straight up the brittle slope, sinking cloth-deep into the russet crunch until I conquered the crest. With one sharp kick, I sent a spray of bronze and crimson flurries showering across the asphalt, listening to the papery snap under my soles. By the time I settled into the hollowed summit, the neat pyramid was thoroughly rearranged to my liking.