The Zinc Downspout

I slipped past the fence latch into the alleyway behind the garage, looking for something new beyond the porch. Near the corner, a curved zinc downspout emptied out over a patch of damp gravel. Resting in the moss was a round, smooth buckeye seed. I scooped it up with both hands, testing its dense heft. Curious to hear how it would travel, I stepped onto an old red brick and hoisted the seed straight into the open lip of the pipe. A loud, echoing clatter rattled down the corrugated metal—rapid and rhythmic—before the nut shot out the curved bottom elbow, rolling to a smooth stop on the stones. Momentum has its own music.