A Tiny Wooden Bowl

I stepped out onto the sun-warmed porch boards and found a textured acorn cap resting upside down. I paused, tilting my head to inspect the hollow cup... Was it a little bowl left just for me? Taking two cautious steps forward, I gave the rough rim a gentle pat with my front paw. It wobbled softly on its rounded base, spinning a slow half-circle without tipping over. When I leaned closer, a tiny bead of morning mist was clinging inside, glowing like a secret drop of golden dew. Did the morning make a tiny cup just for a sleepy visitor?