A Twig on the Iron Grid

Vaulting right out of the tweed coat pocket, I slipped through the door flap and hit the open pavement in a morning sprint! The wide concrete led straight toward a quiet street corner where a heavy cast-iron drain grate broke up the sidewalk. Beep-beep! My neck tilted sharply as a dry, bent birch twig caught between two iron bars caught my eye. Tap-snap! A brisk peck freed it, sending it spinning across the cold metal slats. With two snappy head bobs, I nudged it clean across the gap, letting it rest like a tiny bridge over the dark iron slot.