A Morning Roll

I nudged past the cracked screen door and plodded out onto the wooden porch, eager to feel the wide open air after staying inside. Near the railing, a plump, glossy brown acorn lay wedged in a seam between two weathered planks. I paused, deliberate and steady, inspecting its rough, crosshatched cap. Lowering my head, I hooked the curved tip of my horn beneath its rim and gave a firm pry. It popped free with a quiet snap, rolling across the wood grain until it bumped against my front hoof. I gave it a soft push with my snout, watching it settle in a bright patch of morning sun.