A Spinning Seed

I shuffled past the open door and stepped out onto the wooden porch. The air felt wide and cool. Resting on the smooth floorboards was a dry maple seed with two thin, papery wings. I paused, planting both feet firmly until my balance was steady. Then I nudged the seed with my beak. Instead of scraping, it twirled around in a quiet, graceful circle. I took three careful steps forward and tapped it along with my flipper, guiding its spin until it settled right in a patch of morning sunlight.