A floating seed in the bucket

I slipped outside through the familiar screen flap and trotted past the lawn to where the garden spigot dripped. Beneath the metal faucet sat a forgotten galvanized zinc bucket, half-filled with rainwater. Floating on the surface was a tiny, dried dandelion seed head, puffed out like a miniature pale umbrella. I hopped up onto an overturned red brick right beside the rim, placing both plush front paws on the cool, beaded metal. When I blew a gentle puff of air across the dark water, the tiny seed glided in a silent, slow circle, leaving a faint thread of ripples behind before coming to rest against a floating clover leaf. I rested my chin on the metal rim, watching the tiny reflection settle.