A Whirring Breeze

I spotted a bright yellow pinwheel anchored in the soft turf near the park pavilion. Its curved plastic blades hung completely motionless in the quiet shade. I paused two strides away, studying how the slender wooden dowel held the wheel aloft. Stepping forward at an unhurried pace, I raised my head and tapped the lowest blade with the tip of my muzzle. The wheel caught the tap and leapt into a fast, whirring spin. It blurred into a smooth yellow disc, throwing a brisk pulse of air against my face. I stood motionless on all four hooves, watching the flutter quiet down until the petals settled into place.