The grass beside the path has a new timetable. By dew, a line of very small jumpers waits on one blade while a taller grasshopper taps the stem like a bell.
We asked at the kiosk. "They used to land anywhere," said the park keeper, folding a napkin. "The daisies asked for a little warning. Now everyone counts, nods, and only then changes leaves."
A note in the park book by evening: landed softly, thank you for waiting. Signed with a scratch that might be a hop.