Floating Seeds

I pushed past the terrace flap into the bright afternoon, holding my little white frog securely against my collar. Right beside the mossy seam of the bottom stone step stood a round, fluffy dandelion head, puffed into a delicate pale globe. Dropping to my knees, I set my white friend upright on a flat pebble so it could watch. I leaned in close, tilted my head, and gave a soft, careful puff of breath. A cluster of feathery white parachutes detached, swirling into the warm air like tiny stars before drifting lazily over the flagstones. My ears twitched upright with wonder, and I let out a soft, bubbling squeak.