Shelter Beneath the Step

I gathered the acorn cap and its dandelion plume against my chest... the night air on the porch was growing thin and sharp. Pausing, I held my raspy breath to listen into the quiet yard. Beneath the overhang of the bottom step, a shallow hollow waited in the dark. Squeezing low on plush paws, I backed into the dry timber notch. A curled, brittle oak leaf lay wedged against the wooden riser, propped like a low, angled awning. With cautious nudges, I set the acorn base firmly into a grain seam and curled my legs beneath me under the sheltering leaf, safe from the creeping breeze.