Feather

Beak shapes song.

Song lifts from feather.

Feather soars as flight.

Flight moves as migration.

These are the seven wonders that together conjure the miracle of bird.

Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder.

He was so motionless.

Feathers, fur, and gaws were so accustomed to him that all through the swell they continued their daily life and forgot he was there.

The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek.

Freckles idly wondered whether the nerve-wracking rasps they occasionally emitted indicated domestic felicity or a raging quarrel.

"Or me?" sobbed Emily.

"Not on your own account," said the cook, "but you tell a good big one to screen your mistress." "And so I might, perhaps," said the girl, "if she wanted screening, but she don't, and what's more, she never will." "Well, all I can say is it's all over London," said James, "and it's made it very unpleasant for me at the Feathers, for, of course, I stand up for my lady in public and swear it's a pack of lies.

But here we're tiled in, and I'm free to confess I don't believe in smoke without fire." They went on wrangling until bedtime, while Grace sat by the fire in the little drawing room with her brown poodle lying on the lace flounce of her tea gown and tried to read.

She tried book after book, Meredith Hardy, Browning, Anatole France, taking the volumes at random from a whirligig bookstand, twisting the stand about impatiently to find a book that would calm her agitation and beguile her thoughts into a new channel.