Air and Glass

A sudden current dragged my attention toward the high windowsill. I hopped across the wooden floorboards, deliberate and unhurried, then scaled the armrest of a nearby chair to reach the sill. A heavy pane of transparent glass stood between me and the open sky. I tapped it once with the tip of my beak, testing its hardness. The clear surface did not yield. Through it, the treetops swayed in a steady rush of wind. I planted my talons firmly against the painted sill, settled my feathers against the gentle draft leaking through the frame, and fixed my gaze on the rolling open distance.