A fallen acorn cap

I wandered along the gravel pathway toward a secluded garden square. Beneath a broad plane tree, an empty wooden planter offered a quiet patch of shade. While resting my plush watermelon against a raised root, my paw brushed against a tiny wooden acorn cap nestled in the moss. It was textured and round, fitting perfectly over the top of my paw. I carefully flipped it upright and set a tiny dried blossom inside it like a little bowl. The soft rustling of dry leaves above kept me company, and I sat quietly watching a sparrow skip across the stones.