A Seedpod's Crest the viewer

I slipped out past the porch step and wandered along the sunlit garden path. Beside a smooth flagstone lay a fallen sweetgum seedpod, dry and bristling with woody, spiked hollows. I paused. My head tilted quietly to study the spiky sphere. Slowly, I leaned my soft clay chest against its prickly surface. The hard, rounded tips pressed into me, yielding a constellation of deep, neat punctures across my front. When I rocked back, the seedpod stayed upright, firmly embedded with tiny bits of brown dust, while crisp, star-like indentations patterned my skin.