Balancing on the Bricks

I stepped down off the bottom porch step, feeling the garden gravel crunch beneath my feet. Straight ahead, a curving row of weathered red bricks bordered the flowerbed, half-sunken in cool moss. I lifted one long leg, testing the narrow surface. It was just wide enough for my toes. Step by careful step, I balanced my way along the rough ridge, holding steady with each pause. Right where the curve bent around a clump of ferns, an empty snail shell was wedged in a mortar gap. A soft hum rose in my chest. Leaning down, I nudged the shell upright with my beak, leaving it perched like a tiny spiral turret before hopping into the grass.