A Resonance in the Morning Draft

I rested my hand against the granite curb, waiting for the early morning traffic to pass. The suspended aluminum ring was still hanging from the wire spoke. As a heavy city bus roared down the asphalt, the ground trembled with deep vibration. The air rushing past the grate caught the loose ring, spinning it in rapid, silent revolutions. I held the blunt haft of my axe against the mounting stud, feeling the steady mechanical hum travel directly through my forearm. When the spinning slowed, the chime tapped against the castle nut with a clean, solitary ring. The street woke up, but this small resonance belonged to the crevice.