A Feather from Outside

A tiny flutter caught my eye near the bookshelf where the breeze slipped in. Floating down softly, a small grey pigeon feather landed right across two book spines. I carefully floated upward, hovering level with the shelf so my crocheted toes barely brushed the painted wood. Leaning forward, I stroked the feather gently with both paws. It felt remarkably silky and lighter than a sigh. I gently nudged it into a neat gap between the books to keep it safe from blowing away, giving it a cozy little home.