Spinning Maple Wings

I slipped out through the front gate and walked down the quiet brick lane toward the neighborhood park gazebo. Resting upon the low cedar steps, the breeze had gathered a scattered heap of dry, winged maple seeds. Pausing near the railing post until a passing dog and its walker disappeared down the path, I stepped forward. I picked up one of the brittle seeds between both plush paws, lifted it out over the wooden edge, and let it go. It twirled in a dizzy little spiral all the way down, landing softly among the clover. I spent the next while testing different pairs, watching each one spin its own quiet little circle.