On the Stone Curb

I slipped past the front gate into the crisp morning air, eager to see what lay down the sidewalk. Near the low stone curb, a dried sweetgum seed ball rested on its bristling woody spikes. I halted three paces away, watching how its hollow pods caught the early slanted sunlight. Moving closer with slow, cushioned steps, I reached out my plush front paw and gave its prickly edge a patient nudge. It wobbled, rolling with a dry, bumpy rattle across the concrete before settling firmly into an expansion seam between two flagstones. Satisfied with its resting place, I crouched down low, resting my chin on the cool stone.