Today, I have the pleasure of sharing with you a story written by one of our readers, Cyndie Morrell. Now, it's all hers...
Dedicated to my mom, Faith Booth, who encouraged rather than ridiculed me when I started planting feathers in the pot full of dying foliage that graced the lobby of her apartment building.
Plant Your Feathers
By Cyndie Morrell (McAuliff)
As we walked up the hill toward home, the sound of the crows calling fell down around my ears from the treetops. I was oblivious to the sound of Zeeks voice. The bold, black birds had me mesmerized. Night was descending upon us. The wind whipped leaves around our feet. I heard them chant again; “You’re CAWWWGHT CAWWWGHT”. I knew as they mocked me that they spoke only the truth. I was caught. Caught listening again to this man who loved the sound of his own voice, who knew all the answers.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the sky. Two of the birds clashed above our heads. They beat their wings at each other. Their frantic screaming pierced the oncoming night. They pecked and prodded at each other with beaks and feet. As they pulled apart, I saw one rip at the other with its talons, pulling feathers from its wing. They fluttered to earth, those one, two three, four, five, six, seven blue-black crow feathers. I scurried to gather them before they got lost in the leaves or carried away by the wind.