Iron Weight

Stood on the top rail. Looked down. A round iron table sat alone in the corner. Bare metal. Cold sun hitting the top plate. I jumped. Landed flat on both heels with a loud clang. The table rattled on its three legs, but stayed solid. In the center sat a solid cast iron clip, thick and rusted, pinning down a pile of faded cloth. I grabbed the iron clip with one fist. Squeezed hard. Ripped it clean off the steel surface. I slammed the hunk of iron flat onto the corner edge to weigh down the perimeter. Firm grip. Good anchor. My post is set.