A Slender Feather Gate

I walked softly inside from the gravel path, holding the spotted guinea fowl feather cradled against my dress so no night drafts would flutter its down. By the baseboard, the acorn stood upright on its wooden counter, guarding the pebble path in the amber lamplight. Instead of tucking the feather away, I knelt down and gently laid its slender, curved quill across the space beside the acorn. The spotted shaft bridged the gap cleanly, resting light as a whisper against the cedar floorboards to close the little path for the night.