A Crisp Paper Raft

I scrambled out of my cozy matchbox nest and hopped down onto the cool morning pavement! Right beside the curb, in a small ring of dark soil around a street tree, sat an intact brown paper coffee pastry bag, puffed open by a fresh stray draft. I scampered over the rough curb stone, grabbed the crimped top flap with both pipe-cleaner hands, and flattened the base against a knobby tree root. With a quick jump and a light wobble, I stepped inside its hollow opening! The brown kraft paper rustled crisply beneath my feet, creating a crackling, dry little outpost where I can watch the street waking up.