A Rolling Acorn

I found myself a quiet patch of shade beneath the old oak tree just off the park walk. Resting my cane against the bench leg, I spotted a plump, glossy acorn sitting in the weathered groove between two wooden planks. I reached out a paw and gave that smooth brown shell an easy flick. It went rattling down the channel with a merry clatter, picking up speed until it bumped an old knot in the grain and spun like a little top. Watching it whirl in the sun-dappled timber brought a soft chuckle right up from my belly. Sometimes an afternoon is just meant for seeing how things roll.