A Fine Acorn Roll

I squeezed past the lower corner of the screen door and stepped out onto the wide planks of the front porch, eager to see beyond the glass. Right beside the bristly doormat lay a glossy, dried acorn that had tumbled down from the yard. Instead of just inspecting it, I decided to see how it moved. Bracing my black boots firmly against a timber groove, I gripped my candy cane with both hands, hooked its curved red-and-white tip behind the acorn's rough cap, and gave a hearty heave. The acorn popped loose with a crisp clatter, rolling smoothly along the floorboard seam until it rested in a warm patch of afternoon sun. A grand roll indeed.