A Drifting Feather

A tiny grey down feather was caught in the seam of the flagstones. I crouched beside the pedestal of the birdbath and blew gently on its tip. It lifted into the air, tumbling over in a slow loop before drifting downward. I held very still as it settled lightly across my left foot. The barbs barely tickled the plush fabric. I waited a long time without moving, just feeling how weightless it was resting on me.#