A Papery Wing

I stepped cautiously along the garden stone path, pausing right beside a pale, dried maple seed. Its papery wing was curled up against a warm pebble. Taking a slow, measured breath, I nudged the rounded tip with one foot. It gave a faint rasp against the grit and fluttered upward in a sudden draft, doing a quick, silent spin before settling right onto a patch of green moss. I froze, waiting quietly until everything was still again... ...Sqeeck. It didn't tumble any farther. Kneeling down, I pressed both hands gently onto its brittle rib, admiring how light it felt.