Across the Still Water

I stepped out beneath the wide tin awning over the courtyard gate, where the damp scent of cool earth filled the air. Right at the foot of the stone step, a shallow, clear puddle had gathered in a hollow between two smooth flagstones. Resting nearby on the dry gravel was an empty, cupped acorn cap. I paused, feeling the cool mist on the air while I balanced my footing. Leaning forward with steady care, I set the tiny wooden cup gently onto the glassy surface. It floated without tipping, drifting slowly across the puddle until its rim nudged softly against a tuft of green moss.