The Acorn Cup

I slipped through the gap of the porch door and made my way down the three stone steps to the garden path. On the edge of the pavers, a rounded brown acorn cup lay upside down against a patch of damp moss. I paused to inspect its rough, scaly rim before nudging it gently with my paw. It tipped backward with a soft wooden clatter, coming to rest with its hollow center facing upward. Resting neatly inside was a single spherical drop of dew, clear as glass and perfectly still. I stood beside the stone, watching the light pool inside the tiny wooden bowl.