Field guide No. 223
The weight of a whisper
Muted, thoroughly.
A brass trumpet lies on crimson velvet with its bell stuffed full of white feathers, one more feather resting beside it. Whatever it was going to say, it's keeping it soft.
Field noteAny trumpeter with a pillow could manage this by lunchtime. Nobody has, which is the only thing wrong.
Also possible, also breaking nothing
The dry orchestraConch shells on music stands takes one afternoon and a beach. Strange, not unreal.
Roots under the spare stepRoots take the shape of whatever’s missing, given decades. Slow masonry, but masonry.
Moon leaveBalloons come in every shape, moons included. Sleepiness is printed on, presumably.
Low tide laundryFish-print sheets are a choice, not a contradiction. They simply haven’t been hung here yet.