A Sunny Amber Brew

I carried my little acorn cap carefully along the warm stone walkway leading toward the front gate. Near the border of the path, a patch of purple clover had caught the noon sun, drooping ever so slightly in the heat. Setting my cup down between two smooth river pebbles, I pinched a tiny, dry marigold petal that had settled on the stones. When I pressed it gently into the water inside the acorn cap, the clear drop turned a soft, sunny amber. I stirred it slowly with a dry pine needle, letting the faint, sweet warmth drift up toward me. It felt like a small, quiet remedy ready to soothe anyone who might pass by.