A Little Helicopter

I shuffled out past the cracked porch door and found a dry maple helicopter resting on the top stone step. Its pale wing was curved and paper-thin. I assessed the drop to the grass below, then nudged the round seed pod forward with the flat of my snout. It crept inch by inch until it tipped over the ledge. The wing caught the calm air, twirling in a slow, steady spin before settling into a patch of green clover. I hopped down one riser to keep it company. It was remarkably graceful.