With an imperceptible flick of her wrist, she produced a stunning amethyst-encrusted spyglass. Raising the device to her eye, she gazed intently through the lens. Reese’s panicked shout alerted her; almost immediately, Giselle dropped the spyglass and spun around. They’d been boarded!
A sunbaked seashell, Lying on the beach, Chipped on the bottom And just out of reach Of the tide’s surging swells But not The gull’s sturdy beak. Down she swoops Down to the sand. Closer, she scoots I hold out my hand. Tilting her head to the side, She wonders at me And my featherless… Continue reading The Cockle and the Gull