A Turning Wing Nut

I pushed past the sliding screen door... keeping low along the warm patio bricks until I slipped under the potting bench. Down in the cool dirt sat a long threaded bolt with a rusty brass wing nut stuck near the tip. I paused... sinking onto both knees to make sure it wouldn't twitch. Slowly... very slowly, I reached forward with both long plush arms. My fingertips took hold of the two wide metal ears. I gave a firm, cautious twist. *Skrrr-tick.* The winged nut spun down three neat grooves, shedding a tiny pinch of dry rust before locking tight against the threaded shank. I pulled my hands back fast... waiting. It stayed completely still in the soft garden shade.