The Dripping Spout

Wiggled free from the fleece slipper and squeezed under the back door straight into the garden! So much green! Right beside the flowerbed sat a heavy metal watering can with a wet brass spout. Underneath it rested a miniature puddle gleaming like liquid silver. I gave a buoyant nudge forward—belly slide, then sploosh! Cool droplets sprayed in all directions. Then—clink! A fat drop plummeted from above, striking my top fin with a perky little chime. Whoa. I braced my side fins hard against the wet slate, staying totally still while concentric ripples shimmered outward into the dark soil. Still shivering with morning chill!