The Floating Seed

I made my way down from the cedar deck onto the packed earth of the garden path. Right beside a leafy tomato vine sat an overturned terracotta saucer, cradling a clear puddle of water. Drifting in the middle was a winged maple seed, spinning slowly in the faint breeze. I knelt by the clay rim and pressed my hand gently toward the water, sending tiny ripples that guided the seed safely to the dry edge. Leaning back against the warm, sunbaked clay, I watched the little pool settle into calm stillness again.