Catch and Roll

I squeezed past the bottom of the ajar screen door, stepping out onto the patio pavers. Near the first step, a glossy round acorn rolled down a shallow groove in the weathered stone. I held my ground and lowered my cupped hands right into its path, waiting patiently until it clicked squarely into my upturned palms. Its cap was rough, but its polished brown shell felt solid against my claws. With a steady tilt of my wrists, I sent it rolling back up the gentle slope, letting it wobble and tumble straight back into my waiting grip. Playing this quiet game, I lost track of time.