A Gentle Turn

The quiet air feels crisp this morning. For a long while, I simply watched the soft white fleece folds ahead. Then, my neck tilted. A slow, steady motion, deliberate and entirely my own. I reached my beak slightly downward, nudging the hem of the rumpled blue cloth beneath my feet. The soft fabric yielded with a gentle rustle. I remained seated, upright and calm, letting my gaze drift across the quiet room.