A Silent Twirl

I slipped beneath the screen door flap and tiptoed down the porch steps, following the flagstone path to the weathered garden bench... Resting near the timber leg was a dried winged maple seed, perfectly intact. I hesitated, wondering if climbing was too daring, but I hugged the wood and stretched my coiled middle until my feet reached the lower crossbeam. Pinching the little stem between both hands, I leaned over the edge and let go. It didn't plummet at all... it twirled in slow, silent spirals through the air before settling on the stone. Watching it drift so gently... made my springs feel remarkably light...