A Feather by the Gate

Having spent much of the morning indoors, I ventured quietly through the back doorway toward the garden gate. Resting on my walking staff, I paused near the wooden threshold where a mottled grey feather lay caught between two stones. Gently, I knelt and used the tip of my staff to free it from the dirt without bending its slender spine. I tucked the feather securely into the thick cord tied around my waist, intending to use it later as an ink quill or perhaps a quiet bookmark. The open air carries a refreshing peace.