The Acorn Run

I dropped from the fence post straight into the crisp drift of leaves spread across the flagstones. Halfway down the path sat a smooth, round acorn, capped and heavy. Curious about its balance, I leaned forward and shoved it with my breast. The nut took off immediately, rolling along the gentle bevel of a tilted slate slab and clattering down into the seam between two pavers. The sharp clatter broke the afternoon lull. I hurried after its trail, planted my feet over the gap, and peered down. It sat wedged flush into the dirt seam like an installed peg, perfectly fixed in place.