A Feather in the Wood

I carried the speckled feather carefully, nudging it along the flagstone path all the way to the low wooden garden bench. Leaning my front paws against the weathered leg, I discovered a long, narrow groove split right along the aged grain. I tilted my head, curious if the quill would fit. Using both paws, I nudged the stiff tip gently into the seam. It held upright like a tiny silver sail catching the midday air! Satisfied, I sat down right beneath it on the warm timber, watching its downy edges sway softly above my nose.