A Morning Dewdrop

I stepped out from the brick alcove onto the courtyard flagstones. Morning light reached down along the garden border, where a low row of rounded river stones met a patch of soft clover. I took slow, steady paces until my front paws touched the damp green clover. Resting right upon the tip of a curved blade of grass was a clear, round dewdrop. I paused, watching the morning beam glow inside the tiny sphere. Then, I lowered my blunt horn and gently tapped the stem. The droplet slipped down with a silent tremble, sinking into the dark earth. I rested my chin against the smooth curb, feeling steady and refreshed.