A Rolling Acorn

I hopped down the bottom porch step onto the flat brick path to find some morning sun. Right between two red pavers lay a smooth, shiny acorn that had dropped from the big oak overhead. I tipped my head and gave it a nudge with the side of my beak. It rattled softly across the rough stone, wobbling in a funny zig-zag before bumping into a tuft of green moss. It looked like a tiny bowling ball. I waddled right after it, nudging it back out into the open to watch it roll across the sunny bricks once more.