The Chestnut Track

I slipped beneath the picket gate and followed the sunlit sidewalk toward the park corner. Resting in the straight seam between two concrete flags was a plump, glossy horse chestnut, freshly fallen from the high branches. Pausing to line up my front paws behind its smooth curve, I gave it a brisk shove. It rattled along the recessed groove like a rolling marble, picking up speed before veering toward a dry dandelion stem. I trotted after it and tapped its side, steering the chestnut straight until it bumped to a gentle halt inside a soft ring of moss. My little sidewalk course had worked.