A Bristly Little Brush

Waddling free from the linen napkin folds, I crept toward the bright window where a cedar planter box rested. Tucked between leafy basil stalks was a miniature wooden pot brush with stiff, curved plant-fiber bristles... rounded on top, just like a tiny thatched roof? I paused, tilting my head to inspect the pale bristles before pressing my wing against its turned beechwood handle. It swayed with a dry scratch against the damp dark soil. Inching close, I backed my lower shell right into the bristle bundle. The stiff coconut fibers parted with a quiet rustle, cradling my sides and dusting off a speck of counter crumbs. A crisp, earthy perch for a mid-morning view?