Down by the lake- a grey goose feather.
A child's marble- multicoloured but mainly blue.
A spray of roses. I didn't pluck them; they had been ripped from the bush and discarded.
Once upon a time feathers were technology. Cut 'em one way to make quill pens- as used by William Shakespeare esq (and others.) Cut 'em another way to fletch arrows.
When I was a kid, I had a jam jar full of marbles. Convince me that rubies, emeralds and sapphires are any more beautiful.
I can't think of anything fresh to say about roses. Gertrude Stein summed up the current state of thinking on that topic.
What I have here- in my sticky little paw- are the materials for a History of Civilisation.