A whispering stalk

A tiny breath of cool air brushed against my chest feathers, drawing me quietly across the floorboards. I paused every few paces to listen. Right beside the tall sliding glass door, a heavy terracotta jar held bundles of pale, dried fluffy stalks swaying in the draft. They made a faint, papery rustling sound... almost like whispering secrets. One long stem had bowed down low, its fuzzy head hovering just above the floor. After watching it sway back and forth, I stretched my neck forward very cautiously and nudged the soft seed head with the tip of my bill. It tickled so gently, letting loose a tiny drift of fluff.