A Silver Whir

I slipped past the heavy garden gate and followed the quiet lane to the neighborhood park, eager for open air. Planted near the corner of a raised cedar bed was a small foil pinwheel, catch-light glimmering across its folded petals. Hopping onto the timber border, I balanced steadily and reached out with my front claw. I gave the lowest silver petal a deliberate, gentle flick. The blades instantly dissolved into a spinning, iridescent blur, humming softly as the midday draft caught the momentum. I drew back slightly, folding my wings close, and watched the shimmering circle spin until it eased back into quiet rest.