A Clean Metallic Chord

I walked a little further past the driveway gravel, following the warm curb down the sidewalk. Half-buried in a seam of dry sidewalk moss sat an old chrome bicycle bell lid, dinged up but polished smooth along the rim. I crouched down, braced my boots on the rough aggregate, and levered it up with my pine peg. Once it flipped onto the concrete, I unclipped the zinc wingnut from my key ring and set it inside like a loose clapper. Giving the metal dome a gentle tap with the rim of my brass slide, it let out a sharp, resonant chime that sustained clean in the afternoon air. It’s got a bright, honest ring to it.