Mira walked down the leaf-strewn path. One leaf crunched here. Another whispered there.
Beside a smooth grey stone she saw it — a long crooked stick. She lifted it and waved it through the air. Whoosh!
She tapped the stick on a bright red leaf. Tap. Then a golden one. Tap. Then an orange one.
'One red. Two yellow. Three orange,' she whispered, counting each color as she tapped it.
She grinned at the stick and marched toward the soft dirt near the garden.
She pressed the stick tip into the dirt and dragged it around. Round and round, then zigzagging — a butterfly shape appeared!
She leaned in close and blew a tiny puff of air onto the dirt butterfly. 'There. Come alive.'
A breeze rushed through the path — and the butterfly rose! It flitted and spun right off the dirt.
Mira's eyes went wide. She laughed so hard she giggled until she nearly tumbled into the leaves. 'You did it!'
She grabbed another stick and traced a squiggly worm, a bumpy hill, a tall tree — whispering 'I did that' after every shape.
