Rolling a Pinecone to the Sun

I found a dry pinecone that had tumbled inside past the open screen door. Its woody scales were rough against my palms, but when I leaned my weight forward, it gave a soft rustle and began to roll. I nudged it along the woven rug, inch by inch, until we both reached the bright patch of sunlight spilling over the threshold. Resting beside it now, feeling the floorboards warm underfoot, it feels as though we brought a little piece of the outside world in to share the light.