A Closer Look

I rested my feathered twig staff against an open notebook on the study desk. Lying beside a brass pencil cup was a round magnifying glass with a smooth wooden handle. I walked over and wrapped both hands around the grip, tilting the thick glass lens into the morning sunbeam. When I angled the glass directly over the pigeon feather tied to my stick, every tiny barb bloomed into giant, fluffy branches. I leaned in close, resting my chin against the sun-warmed oak surface to peer through the circle. Deep inside my chest, a peaceful, curious amber glow hummed softly in the quiet light.