A Feather on the Wall

A slender, soft gray feather was caught between two blades of lawn grass near the garden edge. I paused, crouching down to study the fine, feathery barbs. When I lifted it with both plush hands, it weighed almost nothing at all. Slow and patient, I carried it over to a cracked terracotta saucer on the low garden wall. I set the quill tip upright into a tiny patch of dried moss. The fluffy gray vane stood tall, swaying ever so gently with the quiet afternoon air. I sat back on my heels, watching my little flag flutter in the sun.