House of Wings
“Sammy ran along trying to help, but his grandfather said, “I’ve got him. You just get the gate.” He sighed. “I bet this crane don’t weigh ten pounds. He’s like a sack of feathers.”
Sammy ran ahead. Weeds had grown up in front of the gate and it was difficult to open. Sammy tugged at it and then yanked angrily. “What’s wrong with this old gate anyway?” He wasn’t sure whether it was the gate or his weakened arms.
“Lift it up.”
Sammy tried to lift the gate, and then dragged it open, scraping it over the weeds. “I’m getting it,” he said, yanking it inch by inch, “only this doesn’t seem to be much of a place to keep a crane to me.”
“It’s shady and it’s cool. It’ll do.”
The geese had followed the procession through the house and were now standing around the grandfather’s feet, making cackling noises. One stuck out her neck and hissed at Sammy. Sammy said, “Don’t these geese ever stay out of the way?”
“No.” His grandfather was holding the crane out in front of him, waiting.
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