The Rolling Acorn

A plump, glossy acorn sat balanced on the flagstone path just outside the front gate. I glided low, tilting my snout to nudge its smooth brown curve. It tipped over with a soft click and began to roll down the gentle slope of the pavement. I drifted alongside it, giving it a light tap each time it slowed to keep it dancing along the concrete seam. With one last wobble, it plopped right into a clear, shallow puddle by the curb, spinning slowly while ripples carried the warm amber glimmer from my nose across the water.