A Feathered Introduction

Golden sunlight streams through the windows, spilling over the cozy room like a warm embrace. Outside, birdsong weaves a gentle melody, filling the still air with a touch of life. At her desk, Chicken leans into her work, a feathered quill cradled delicately in her wing. Her focus is absolute, the soft scratch of the quill against paper harmonizing with the faint strains of Hans Zimmer’s music in the background.

The words flow from her like a quiet river, each a deliberate stroke painted across the parchment. This is her haven, where time bends, and the clamor of the outside world fades into a distant echo. Here, creation blooms in the stillness, her thoughts taking flight as ink kisses the page.

As the final words of her poem take shape on the page, Chicken pauses. She picks up the paper with the utmost care, blowing gently to dry the ink. Then, with a soft sigh of contentment, she stands, holding the poem by its top corners, her wings barely touching the edges to avoid smudging the ink.

The door creaks open, and Chicken steps into the embrace of the day. The world welcomes her with a bright blue sky and a breeze that carries the scent of wildflowers. She inhales deeply, letting the air fill her lungs, and moves toward the clothesline strung along her home. Dozens of poems sway there, each one a fluttering whisper, a story caught in the rhythm of the wind.

With a smile tugging at her beak, Chicken picks up a clothespin from a small basket and carefully fastens her latest creation to an empty spot on the line. The paper sways gently as though finding its place in the symphony of the breeze. Stepping back, she takes it all in: the house, the swaying pages, the quiet dance of her words as they mingle with the world around them.

The poems ripple like a chorus of white curtains, their motion a dialogue with the wind. Each is a fragment of her soul, a testament to the thoughts and feelings she has gently shaped into existence.

For a moment, Chicken stands still, her heart swelling with pride and peace. The sunlight glints off the fresh ink, the paper shimmering like a reflection of her inner calm. As the breeze stirs her words to life, she lingers in the stillness, watching her creations sway, a delicate harmony of art and nature.

Finally, she turns, heading back inside, the camera lingering on the poem. It glistens in the sunlight, moving with the breeze as though breathing. Its soft motion echoes the quiet stillness in Chicken’s heart—a silent hymn to the beauty of creation and the peace it brings.

Poem for Episode 1

A Feathered Introduction

Beneath the oak, where leaves do sway, And watch for words to drift their way. I pluck my thoughts, both gift and curse. Each word I write, a tethered thread, To catch what’s fleeting, left unsaid.

The lines hang bare, still damp with ink, To dry in the air, to make you think. Pause here and let the stillness start, You’ve found the door into my heart.

Welcome, friends, to my place of peace.

CKN