A Fallen Acorn

I stepped down from the porch steps, my feet crunching softly on the garden gravel. Resting against a wooden wheelbarrow, a shiny fallen acorn caught my eye. I paused, taking a slow breath. Carefully, I lowered my long neck and nudged it with my snout. It rolled forward with a faint clatter, stopping right against an empty snail shell. From down here, the low morning sun stretched my shadow across the smooth stones. I stood very still, resting my nose near the cool shell.