The Concrete Chute

I followed the stone edging of the flowerbed until I reached the base of the white downspout, where a heavy concrete splash block sloped toward the lawn. Resting near the gutter was a smooth, round acorn. I picked it up with both hands, feeling its hard, polished shell, and carried it to the raised lip at the top of the chute. Carefully lining it up with the center groove, I let go. It rumbled down the textured incline with a rapid chatter, hopped cleanly over the bottom rim, and settled softly into a tuft of clover. I hurried down after it, eager to roll it all over again.