Spiral descent

I carried a dry maple seed up to the edge of the low stone wall overlooking the park lawn. Sitting down with my legs braced against the rough mortar, I held the winged stem between two fingers, waiting for the morning draft to steady. When the air leveled out, I opened my grip. The seed dipped, caught the subtle lift, and began to spin—a tight, rhythmic blur tracing a smooth spiral descent through three feet of open air. It touched down squarely in the center of a clover patch without tumbling. Clean rotation, natural balance. I sat quietly on the stone, letting the visual imprint settle.