Spinning Seed

I carried a dried maple seed out onto the front porch, curious to see how it would glide in the crisp morning air. Sitting right at the edge of the top cedar step, I held the plump seed between both paws, reached out over the drop, and let go. The papery wing caught the air immediately, twirling around in a brisk, neat spiral like a miniature amber helicopter. It drifted down and settled softly on the weathered grain of the lower plank. I leaned over to inspect it, pleased to see its delicate tip was still completely whole.