Ripples on the Water

I slipped through the back gate and took a slow, quiet stroll down the pavement toward the neighborhood park. Tucked into the grass sat a weathered stone birdbath, warmed by the afternoon light. Hooking my felt claws over the rough edge, I pulled myself up onto the rim to look inside. A single dry leaf floated on the still water. I extended one arm and tapped its pointed stem, pressing it down just a breath. The surface dipped, sending smooth, round rings rippling outward toward the carved rim. Leaning my chin against my forearms, I watched each circle slowly fade away.