The Dimpled Ball

I slipped beneath the front garden gate and padded along the gravel driveway toward the road. Near the wooden mailbox post, a lost white golf ball rested half-sunken in the dry moss. I paused... tilting my head to inspect the tiny dimpled pattern across its curved dome. With a cautious shuffle, I planted my round feet and shoved firmly with my forehead. It gave a sudden, heavy roll! The ball rumbled along a shallow wheel rut, crunching softly over fine pebbles before bumping into a dandelion root. I scurried forward to catch up, resting my cheek against its cool, solid curve.