A Cap of Acorn

My paws padded quietly along the cracked concrete slab past the mailbox. The boundary felt wider out here. Right in a sunlit gap along the base of a neighbor's dry-stacked stone wall, a rough acorn cupule sat upside down. I paused, letting the silence settle. Reaching out with one careful paw, I nudged its prickly textured rim. It tipped with a faint, hollow snap, rolling into a tiny crevice filled with dry sand. Wedging my flank against the warm granite, I watched the long stretch of the sidewalk.