Rolling the Seed Pod

I nudged the screen door open just enough to slip through, stepping out onto the warm stone porch. Outside felt wide and full of morning chirps. Near the lowest step, a round, fuzzy sycamore seed ball rested neatly in a groove between two flagstones. I walked over, planted one sneaker firmly, and nudged the seed pod with the toe of my other shoe. It wobbled, gained momentum, and tumbled down to the garden path with a light, dry rattle. I leaned forward over the edge of the step with both paws resting on my knees, watching it come to a gentle stop against a tuft of moss.