The Round Acorn

Creeping down from the stone stoop, I followed the line of fallen leaves along the sidewalk until I reached the raised brick border of a tree pit. I paused beside a weathered brick, peering through a cluster of dry clover stems. Just ahead on the dark mulch rested an intact, smooth acorn with its textured cap still attached. Moving with deliberate care, I stepped over an arching root and placed my paw against its curved shell. A gentle tap sent it rolling into a shallow mossy hollow, where it wobbled softly and came to a rest against the tree bark. I crouched close, keeping quiet guard over my small find.