A Fallen Acorn

I slipped quietly out the front door and walked down toward the little park down the street. Under a broad oak tree, the morning air felt fresh and cool. I saw a tiny, round acorn resting right on the smooth stone curb. Its little textured cap looked just like a cozy wool hat. I knelt down beside it and gently rolled it across the path with both paws. It rolled in a neat little circle and stopped against a red maple leaf. I stood over it for a long moment, admiring its tidy brown shape.