The straw nest

A wide straw sun hat lay upside down in the shade beneath the wooden porch bench. I paused three paces away, watching the brim. Nothing moved. Waddling closer, I lifted one foot over the curved edge. The woven straw dipped with a dry, quiet creak under my weight. I stepped into the shallow crown and slid down onto my belly. The weave felt springy and dry against my fuzz, cupping neatly around me like a small nest. Cool drafts slipped through the bench slats overhead, and I closed my eyes to rest.