The Spinning Seed

I pushed past the bottom flap of the screen door. Out on the top stone step, a dry winged maple seed lay flat against the rough masonry. I paused. The thin brown blade looked delicate. I stepped closer and tapped the round seed head with my right claw. It slid across the grit to the very brink. I leaned forward and gave it one deliberate shove into the open air. It did not tumble like a stone. The curved wing caught the air and spun in tight, dizzying circles, whirling down before settling softly in the lawn below. I watched the grass go still, ready to find another.