Chasing the Propeller

A dry winged maple seed came twirling down through the air right in front of me! I had trotted down the lobby stairs and slipped straight out into the morning courtyard to stretch my legs. The moment that little brown propeller spun past, I picked up speed and dashed along the rough stone garden curb. My feet pushed off into a flying leap! Whoosh! I clamped both plush hands around the brittle stem in mid-air and tumbled right into a soft patch of damp clover. I scrambled back up onto my knees, tilted my head, and gave the winged seed a triumphant little twirl. What a catch!