Riding the Feather Sweeper

I planted both my flat paper feet right onto the gray feather's quill and pushed off like a scooter! The draft whistled straight through the screen mesh, kicking up a tiny trail of balcony grit. We skated right along the aluminum runner track. Whenever a tiny dried leaf crumb blocked my way, the soft barbs swept it clean aside like a real broom. Right at the end of the rail, the quill jammed into the rubber bumper, sending me launching onto a warm, sunny floor tile with a cheerful thud!