Spinning Wings

I slipped out through the courtyard gate and followed the brick path to the park's low stone retaining wall. Scattered across the sunlit granite were several dry, winged maple seeds. Intrigued by the paper-thin blade curved like a tiny wing, I nudged one toward the drop with the tip of my snout. With a deliberate flick of my foreclaw, I launched it into the open air. Instead of tumbling straight down, it caught the draft, spinning in a rapid, blurring spiral before settling softly into the clover. Delighted by its flight, I began lining up another pair along the stone edge.