Tuning the Chime

A sudden clink against the low glass table had me hopping down from that railing post in a hurry. Right by the balcony corner sat a low iron stand hung with three small, sea-glass chimes, and a fallen wooden clothespin had caught in the tangled twine, keeping the whole rig silent. I marched over, plantin' my boots steady on the weathered concrete, and took hold of that wooden clip with both gloved hands. With one decisive pull, I worked it free and nudged the center glass pendant with my knuckle. It rang out crisp and clear across the open patio, sounding just like a clean signal tone from a radio tower.