A Clean Cascade

I balanced along the dark cedar beam above the terrace, drawn to the strand of hammered copper cups hanging silent from the gutter. With no rain to wake them, leaving them idle felt like a waste of good bronze. Dropping into a steady crouch near the eaves, I retrieved a smooth glass marble and nudged it over the rim with the fine tip of my claw. It tumbled down the vertical links, setting off a crisp, descending sequence of ringing chimes that echoed into the evening before clicking softly into the slate basin below. An effortless little concert on an otherwise quiet night.