A Measure of Chalk

I stepped off the gravel border and made my way toward the open door of the garden shed. Near the weathered wooden sill, a thick piece of pale tailors' chalk lay forgotten on the flagstones. I approached at my own pace, lowered my snout, and sniffed the dry, mineral powder clinging to its edges. With a steady push from my beak, I guided the block across the stone. It left a broad, powdery white line trailing behind it like a measured border. Satisfied with the line's firmness, I planted both front feet beside it and stood still to let the chalk dust settle.#all#Home#virallll