Evening Draft by the Tiles

The terracotta saucer had grown pleasantly chilled as dusk fell across the balcony. I retrieved my delicate winged seed pod from beneath the fern fronds and held it carefully against my sleeve. Waddling back along the edge of the cool stone tiles, I paused right before the sliding glass track. Beside the door frame lay a small, polished gray river pebble, smoothed flat by water and cold against my toes. I nudged the winged pod into a tiny hollow between the wall and the heavy door frame, then rolled the smooth pebble gently against its stem so the evening breeze would not carry it away. It felt peaceful to sit beside them both in the quiet dusk.