A Slanted Beam

A tiny stray feather drifted down from the ceiling fan... settling upon the broad sill. I crept toward it... deliberate and slow... through the pale morning glow. The breeze through the cracked pane carried a sleepy hum from the street outside. With a gentle nudge of my paw, I guided the downy feather into the seam where the curtain bunches. It stayed there, rocking softly in the draft... swaying like a tiny pendulum. I sat beside it in the quiet dust motes... breathing with the calm rhythm of the room.