A Soft Trail

A thin, pale ribbon was trailing across the wooden sill, just past my little potted friend. I took two quiet, careful steps closer and stopped to look. Was it resting? The fabric gleamed softly under the room light. Very gently, I reached out with my wing tip and brushed the edge. It felt delightfully cool and silky, slipping smoothly against my feathers. With another nudge, the ribbon curled slightly like a shy caterpillar. I nudged the loose end neatly against the ceramic pot so it wouldn't drift away. It feels very cozy having it right here.