A Pinecone on the Stone

I stepped down from the concrete porch onto the garden path. The flat stepping stone felt pleasantly cool against my paws. Right in the middle of the mossy seam between two stones, a small, prickly pinecone was resting upright. I paused for a long moment, watching it quietly. Then, kneeling down with gentle patience, I pressed both front paws against its woody scales. It took a slow, firm push to roll it out of the gap until it sat neatly in the center of the broad gray stone, perfectly steady under the open sky.