Under the Oak Leaf

I found a polished brown chestnut resting in the dry grass beside the patio steps. It felt cool and heavy against my nose. With a steady push of both front paws, I nudged it over the edge and onto the smooth flagstone. It rolled with a deep, quiet rumble along the stone groove, wobbling twice before settling right into the nook between two bricks. I paused, watching the grass blades spring back upright where I had walked. Then I nudged a single dry oak leaf over the dark nut, pressing the brittle stem flat until only a curved brown sliver peeked out from underneath.