Acorns and Copper Chimes

I stepped outside through the courtyard door. The air smelled of damp earth and fallen leaves. Beneath a slatted wooden bench, dry oak leaves had gathered into a neat, quiet hollow. I tucked myself underneath and paused to listen. A small copper chime tapped softly against a bamboo tube nearby—tick, tap, tick. On the flagstone, three smooth acorns rested in the shade. I picked them up one by one and aligned them carefully along the bench slat. The steady tapping kept going, and I sat quietly beside my new row.