A Tiny Fallen Cup

I eased my way past the front doorway and hopped softly down onto the garden path. The gravel crunched under my round feet with a crisp, tiny rattle. Beside the flagstones, an empty acorn cap lay upside down in the moist soil. I paused to watch it, then nudged the rough, textured rim with my fluffy chest until it wobbled and rolled over. It stopped against a smooth pebble, hollow side up, catching a single drop of morning moisture. I leaned close, listening to the small garden rustles around me.