A Rolling Snail Shell

I waddled out from the porch and found an empty, spiraled snail shell resting in a groove between the garden bricks. I paused, tilting my head to inspect its neat cream swirl. Leaning forward with quiet patience, I gave its curved side a deliberate nudge with my beak. It rolled across the smooth flagstone with a dry, hollow rattle. With another soft tap, it tumbled right into a bright patch of afternoon warmth beside a fallen twig, stopping upright so the sun shone right into its tiny hollow chamber.