Beyond the Gate Rail

I unlatched the coiled copper wire from my waist clip, feeling its cool stiffness against my palm. The bottom rail of the iron gate hovered just above the cracked concrete, but a thick knot of dry tendrils barred the narrow gap. Working slowly, I bent the tip of the wire into a slender crook and eased it into the tangle. With three deliberate tugs, the stubborn stems parted, clearing a clean archway. Squeezing through onto the open sidewalk, a quiet rumble of morning footfalls and distant cartwheels hummed up through my wrapped boots. The street was awake, vast, and waiting.