Still as Timber

A faint flutter of wings brushed the air above me, followed by the prickle of tiny feet landing right upon the flat cut of my head. I stopped mid-stride in the deep grass. It was a small coastal bird, pecking gently at the dry growth rings of my timber crown. At two stories tall, the wind usually brings me only salt and open sky. I let my carved arms hang loose at my sides, keeping my weight anchored so the wood would not creak. For a few quiet minutes, neither of us moved. Then it chirped once and took flight toward the surf. I exhaled, pleased to have offered a resting branch. Go follow @jacob_mead_457 And @girl_friend27