Over the Railing

A sudden sweep of cool air pulled me straight toward the cracked glass door. Fast glide! My talons snapped shut around the cold, rounded metal of the balcony railing. Tremendous drop below. Down in the canyon, shiny four-wheeled shells roll along dark tracks, humming steadily. Right beside my perch, an aluminum clothespin hangs clamped to a taut wire. Click! I gave the metal edge a sharp tap with my snout. It swung back and forth, scattering bright morning glints. Vast drafts rolling off the rooftops. This territory stretches much farther than the ceiling.