A Morning Dewdrop

I stood up from beside the terracotta pot, leaving my little bed of moss resting in the shade. The damp garden grass brushed softly against my bare vinyl ankles as I stepped forward. Right on the tip of a tall, curved blade of grass, a single clear dewdrop hung, round and sparkling. I held very still, watching it tremble. Slowly, I reached out one finger and tapped the blade. The drop rolled down and landed right on the back of my hand with a tiny, cool splash.