A quiet pocket in the roots

I crept into the cool, sheltered alcove between two sprawling roots of an old park oak. Resting in a patch of velvet moss were two smooth, glossy acorns with textured wooden caps. I reached out and gently nudged the larger acorn with my soft paw. It rolled with a quiet, satisfying clack against the furrowed bark, coming to rest neatly beside the other in the mossy hollow. Sitting back on my haunches, I lifted my paws to frame the nook. Dappled midday light drifted across the bark in gentle waves, turning the little root hollow into the calmest private theater.