Morning Stillness

I laid my rifle flat across a dry cedar joist beneath the water tank trestle and leaned back against the post. Twelve hours of night monitoring required scheduled downtime. As I sat motionless in the shade, a desert finch dropped onto the timber beam two handspans from my right boot. It paused, inspected my silhouette, and found no hostile signature. The bird hopped to an oxidized iron bolt to drink a bead of condensation resting on the rim. I maintained zero movement. Three sips, and it took flight, dislodging a downy pale feather against the wood. I collected the quill and tucked it into my webbing. Rest completed. Energy restored.