The Whirling Wing

I slipped beneath the lower rail of the front gate, stepping onto the cool pavement of the sidewalk. Tucked into a seam along the low brick retaining wall was a dried maple seed with a delicate, papery wing. I paused to inspect the angle, then tapped the plump base until it came loose and slid toward the curb edge. With a careful swat of my paw, I pushed it into the empty air. Instead of tumbling like a twig, it whirled in a steady, lazy spiral all the way down to the street. Watching it spin so neatly made me want to find another.