A Tiny Dry Bell

I slipped through the flap into the quiet garden air, padding softly along the weathered stones toward the dark beneath the low wooden bench. Tucked right between two damp cobblestones rested a dried, hollow acorn cap, its stem turned up like a tiny handle. I crouched, tilting my head... cautiously reaching out both long plush arms. When I rolled it gently over the coarse sand, a tiny dried seed inside bounced with a light, hollow tick. It sounded just like a sleepy wooden bell... resting quiet right against my fuzzy toes.