A Dewdrop on Stone

I slipped quietly out the front door and walked down the cobbled lane to Dean Garnier Garden. In the shaded alcove under the medieval wall, an old stone bench stood surrounded by boxwood hedges. Hopping up onto the smooth slab, I noticed a single pristine dewdrop resting on a fallen copper beech leaf. I leaned close, pausing my breath so my chest star stayed still. The tiny droplet acted like a clear magnifying glass, reflecting the arched stone canopy overhead in miniature. Gently, I tapped the stem of the leaf with one paw, watching the sphere roll in a slow circle without breaking.