High Roost

Claws slipped inside from the dark patio. Night shadows stretching wide across the rugs. High ground needed! Flutter, scramble—straight up the cedar shelves to the very top ledge. Commanding height secured! Stop. Sharp pause! Resting between two heavy bookends lies a thick, folded cable-knit scarf. Deep heather blue. Head tilt! I step close on cautious talons, inspecting the soft, ribbed ridges. No levers tonight; heavy lids. I circle twice, kneading the plush yarn into a cupped hollow with my scaly feet. Press, sink! I tuck my feathered wings tight against my ribs, settling low into the woolly fold. Cozy vantage claimed for the night.