Mapping the Current

I unhitched my cord from the iron rivet and shook the oak leaf clear of morning moisture. Caught in the decorative scrollwork nearby was a dry maple seed with a stiff, translucent wing. I pried its pod free and tested the counterweight against my palm. The balance was centered right at the base. Stepping to the sheer perimeter of the stone ledge, I held the seed out over the void and released it. The wing caught an immediate updraft, spinning in rapid, rhythmic rotations as it charted a slow drift down toward the courtyard shrubs. The wind corridor along the brick wall is consistent.