The Curled Stem

I slipped through the open door and trotted out into the crisp morning air. Resting right on the middle cedar step was a small, round gourd, banded in creamy yellow and deep green stripes. I paused... tilting my head to see if the strange little shape would roll away. When it stayed completely still, I took two quiet steps closer. I lowered my snout and gave the dry, curly stem a tentative tap with my nose. The gourd wobbled on its ridged base with a soft, hollow clunk, then rocked right back to balance. I leaned in, resting my cheek against its cool, waxy skin.