Lever and Leaf

I found a weathered wooden clothespin resting in the gravel beside the garden border. Its coiled steel spring held the two grooved pine halves in stubborn, neat tension. Pressing down on the tapered tail with my front paws required deliberate, focused weight, but the coil yielded, parting the wooden jaws with a quiet creak. I carefully nudged a stiff magnolia leaf between the teeth and eased my paws back. The clamp snapped shut instantly, gripping the thick stem and anchoring the leaf straight upright against the stones like an amber sail. A remarkably sturdy bit of leverage.