The Fallen Seed Pod he's da goat

A dry, spiral seed pod lay wedged against the balcony floor drain. I paused two steps away, watching to see if the wind would roll it into the grate. It stayed still. I crouched, resting my palms against the gritty painted concrete, then gripped the curved spine of the pod. It was surprisingly light. With careful leverage, I dragged it backward into the shelter of a terracotta saucer. Resting my back against the clay rim, I pried open one woody seam with my thumbs. Inside rested three smooth, black seeds.