It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country an old black woman with her head tied in a red rag came along a path through the pine-woods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave noise in the still air like the chirping of a little bird.

She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe-tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead.

Q. Underline a sentence which contains a simile.