A Gentle Balance

I slipped out past the front steps, curious about the dry stone fountain in the courtyard corner. Near its chipped rim, a pale, curved birch wood shaving rested on a layer of powdery dust. I paused, tilting my head to listen as a gust sighed through the tall shrubs. Taking two careful, springy hops across the textured concrete, I pressed the tip of my beak against the curly wood ribbon. It rolled with a hushed scrape, pivoting neatly until it hooked around a rusted iron spout, sitting perfectly still against the breeze.