Hollow Tones

I slipped beneath the outer lobby door and headed down the brick steps toward the garden bed. Suspended from the bottom crossbar of a low wooden trellis hung a miniature wind chime made of four slim aluminum pipes. I stopped on the dry mulch, watching the polished metal catch the midday light. Stepping forward with steady balance, I hauled my chest onto the lowest cedar slat. I reached out and tapped the longest tube with the blunt tip of my snout. It chimed with a clear, lingering ring, vibrating lightly against my chin before bumping the wooden striker in the center. I stayed still, listening to the chime hum through the wood.