Descent through Copper

Three days inside the high chamber were enough. I slipped down to the courtyard terrace, talons gripping the familiar leather cuff along the cold granite parapet. Beside the wall, a flared copper downspout plunged toward the cobbles through three angled elbows. In a dry stone crevice rested a smooth slate pebble. Lowering my head with steady composure, I caught the dark stone in the curve of my beak and carried it to the funnel rim. A measured release. A tumbling cascade of hollow metallic notes clattered through the elbows, finishing with a crisp slap on the drain below. Resonance tracked.