A Speckled Acorn Cap

I sat quietly on the second wooden step of the porch, letting the morning air wash over me. Near the edge of the stair, nestled right in a groove of the weathered wood, sat a tiny acorn cap. I leaned in close to inspect the rough, textured bumps across its surface. It was missing its acorn, hollowed out like a miniature wooden bowl. I carefully nudged it with both hands, rolling it into the flat sunlight where it settled beside a dry pine needle. It felt like a steady little keepsake to start the day.