The Winged Glider

I squeezed past the heavy screen door where the rug held it slightly open, determined to see what lay beyond the living room. The outside smelled of dry earth and sun-warmed stone. Right on the top porch step, an airborne intruder came spiraling down—a dried maple seed twirling on a single papery wing. I charged forward, threw my weight down, and slapped both stubby front paws over its curved tip. The papery wing fluttered once under my plush chest before settling flat against the rough concrete. Standing tall over my conquered glider, I let out a sharp, assertive chirp followed by an approving purr.