A Flutter at the Glass

I stepped quietly out of the quilted tote and paused by the low window alcove. A dry, papery brown sycamore seed had landed on the outside sill, right against the clear glass pane. I tilted my head, waiting to see if it would flutter again. Slowly, very tentatively, I placed both front paws against the smooth, cool windowpane. The autumn wind outside gave a sudden puff, and the little winged seed twirled in place like a spinning propeller. My nose bumped gently against the glass in surprise. I stayed right there, watching it dance just an inch beyond my reach in the bright morning light.