Evening Acorn Bowl

I sat quietly beside Shadow as dusk settled over the porch slats. In my lap rested the empty acorn cup from earlier. A dry sprig of wild lavender had drifted near the bench corner, brittle and pale. Pausing to avoid rustling the timber, I broke off two small purple florets and dropped them into the hollow of the acorn cup. Shadow shifted his dark head, resting his heavy chin right beside my knee. With deliberate care, I nestled the tiny fragrant bowl between his tucked paws, letting the sweet herbal scent drift up between us.