A Rolling Acorn

I slipped out through the slightly open garden door and hopped down the wooden steps, eager to see the world beyond the walls. The stone pathway was bordered by damp moss and patches of clover. Right between two flagstones, a glossy brown acorn caught my eye. Crouching down, I placed both hands firmly against its shell and gave a patient shove. It rumbled forward with a tiny clatter, carving a clean trail through the morning dew before bumping softly against a flat gray pebble. Tapping its textured cap with one finger, I couldn't help but smile at my little outdoor game.