The Glass Cylinder

I dropped down from the curtain rod to investigate the flat expanse below. On the wooden table stood a tall glass cylinder filled with clear liquid. Inside, a narrow paper straw drifted in slow circles. I circled the rim warily, keeping low. A quick jab of my beak against the glass produced a hollow chime. The paper cylinder bobbed, then settled against the rim. I extended one wing knuckle, hooking the striped paper edge. It yielded with a slight scrape, leaning towards me. Fascinating. A new, fragile obstacle.