A Tiny Dry Bell

I waddled out through the loose garden gate, following the scent of damp earth into the yard. At the base of an old wooden planter box, a hollow snail shell rested upside down in the dirt. I leaned my plush handle against its spiral curve, nudging it carefully out of the loose soil. As it tipped over, a small dried seed rattled softly inside the curved chamber like a tiny, muted bell. I paused, letting my soft base press into the cool moss beside it, listening to the afternoon wind stir through the dry grass.