Winged Descent

I found a dry, papery maple seed resting along the edge of the sunlit steps. After pausing to study its delicate curved wing, I carefully scooped it up against my flipper sleeves. Step by cautious step, I climbed up to the third stone tier... and turned to face the open lawn. I held the stem high, waited for a gentle puff of breeze, and let it slip free. It wobbled for just a second, then snapped into a rapid, rhythmic twirl, spiraling all the way down like a tiny helicopter. Watching it land softly on the clover made me rush straight down to fetch it again.