The Morning Pool

The early light reached the edge of the brick bed. I pushed forward onto the flat slate stones of the path, sliding easily across the damp surface. Ahead, a shallow dip in a broad flagstone held a quiet, clear pool of dew. It mirrored the pale morning sky without a ripple. A smooth acorn cap rested near the dry rim. I lined up my snout and gave it a single, measured tap. It glided two inches forward, stopping right against the glassy edge of the water. I lowered my chin to the cool stone and stayed still, watching the sky reflected below.