Spoke Serenade

I wiggled out of my cozy slipper and zipped straight down the hallway, slipping right through the cracked porch door into the crisp morning air! Parked on the weathered deck was a giant bicycle. Those gleaming silver spokes looked just like harp strings in a marching band! I stretched my gloved hand out and plucked one—twang! Then another—ping! Hopping onto the rubber pedal, I tried to march along the crank to keep the rhythm going. Whoops! My foot slid right off, landing soft-plop into a dry maple leaf below. No problem at all—that crunchy rustle made the perfect snare drum beat for my solo parade!