Rhythm on the Railing

That crack in the bottom window sash was practically an open invitation. Squeezed right past the frame onto the cold iron of the fire escape, and the whole street hit me in full stereo. Horns, crosswalk chirps, and down on the corner, someone laying down a brisk beat on five-gallon buckets. Couldn't just stand there. Snagged a weathered wooden clothespin wedged near my foot and dragged it across the railing bars as I darted down the metal stairs. Clack-clack-clack-clack! Nailed the tempo on the first pass. Morning breeze in my quills and the slickest beat in the neighborhood.