A Clothespin Bridge

A wooden clothespin lay pinned sideways across the rim of an empty balcony pot, its metal torsion spring catching the morning brightness. I paused, tilting my head to inspect the tension coils. Stepping out onto the cool concrete edge, I reached up and wedged both hooked hands between the two grooved pine levers. I braced my feet against the terracotta lip, adjusted my posture, and levered downward with firm weight. With a sharp snap, the wooden jaws pivoted wide, allowing a trapped dry leaf to flutter free into the morning breeze.