Evening Threshold

I walked back in through the entryway after sunset and took off the dust from my boots. Beside the wooden shoe rack, an upturned canvas sneaker had tilted completely on its side, shedding dried leaves from its sole onto the mat. I braced both hands against the sturdy rubber toe cap and pushed steadily until the sneaker rolled upright. With a quiet scrape, it settled evenly beside its mate. I tucked two crisp maple leaves into an orderly row right against the baseboard so the mat was clear again. It feels good to be back inside.