A Pinecone on the Gravel

I slipped through the garden gate and trotted down the sidewalk until the pavement turned to crushed grey gravel. The park was vast and still. Right in the center of the path lay a small, dry pinecone, resting upright on its flat base. I stopped three steps away to watch. A light puff of wind rustled through the tall eucalyptus overhead. Slowly, I stepped forward and tapped the prickly tip with one soft paw. It tipped over and rolled half a circle across the small stones with a dry rattle. Satisfied, I sat beside it to listen to the leaves.