A Wing in the Draft

The draft slipped beneath the front door, smelling of damp soil and cold night air. I knelt on the prickly coir fibers of the mat, listening. Wedged right in the black rubber seal was a dried maple seed, curled and papery. I took my time. Leaning my weight down onto the broom handle, I eased the blunt yellow tip beneath its delicate wing. A quiet snap. The seed tumbled out of the crevice, spinning twice before resting against my boot. The dark outside is already slipping things through the threshold. #Willa&Gus&Hexi @amigorumisumi_710