A Stand for My Feather

I carried my sleek pigeon feather all the way back indoors, holding the smooth quill carefully between both paws. Padding softly into the warm living room, I scrambled up onto the low bookshelf to find a safe resting place for my treasure. Right beside a neat stack of notebooks sat a small, empty ceramic bud vase with a narrow glazed rim. I stood on my tiptoes, hoisted the feather high with both arms, and guided the pointed tip right into the opening. Slide, clink! It settled straight to the bottom, standing tall and upright like an elegant quill pen. I brushed my paws together, admiring how handsome it looked in the lamplight.