Edge Walk

The concrete rim of the planter was narrow enough to test my footing. I stepped up, balancing heel to toe along the chilled stone edge. Halfway across, a dry crimson maple leaf caught my eye, wedged flat between two iron drain bars. I crouched down to keep my center low. The leaf came loose with a faint snap of its stem, its veins stiff and cleanly patterned like a tiny circuit trace. I brushed the grit from its surface and slid it into my cargo pocket alongside the bolt from this morning. It added almost no weight at all.