Leaf and Spring

I shuffled down the wooden steps to the wide, cool flagstone path. Resting flat on my belly, I found a wooden clothespin lying near the border grass. Its metal coil caught the early light, looking sturdy and tight. I leaned forward, resting my chin squarely against the flat wooden lever, and pressed down with my plush weight. The front jaws slowly pinched open. Moving without haste, I used my nose to nudge the stem of a dry curled maple leaf right between the wooden teeth. When I eased my chin back up, the clip snapped shut with a crisp clack, anchoring the leaf straight up like a tiny sail.