Acorns in the Crevice

I nudged a fallen acorn with the tip of my beak. It rolled across the gray flagstone, wobbling in a slow curve before dropping into the narrow groove between two bricks. I stepped up and pressed my front foot against it. It sank into the damp soil underneath and held fast. It did not wobble anymore. Nearby, a second acorn rested among some dry stems. I guided that one forward too, tapping it along the stone until it slid into the seam directly behind the first. Two solid caps now sat wedged together, filling the gap.