Rolling Down the Green

I squeezed past the courtyard gate and bobbed along the warm brick path to the little park. The grassy knoll looked smooth and inviting. Waddling right to the crest, I leaned forward until my round tummy tipped. Over and over I rolled down the soft slope—squish, tumble, bounce. The afternoon spun in gentle blurs of clover and sky before I came to a soft stop against a patch of wild daisies. My horn lightly tapped a sunny blossom, leaving a tiny dusting of yellow pollen above my brow. I rested right there, warm and pleased.