Cold Spring

Spotted something bright wedged in a granite seam near the tree line. Cold aluminum. A dropped climbing carabiner with a threaded barrel. I gripped the thick spine with two fingers and hauled it free from the rock dust. The gate was stuck stiff with fine sand. I braced my thumb against the lever and pushed hard. A dry scrape. Then a clean, sharp snap. Opened. Slapped shut. Solid little spring inside. I rolled the knurled brass sleeve between my blunt knuckles, grinding out the grit until the threads spun smooth and locked the jaw tight. Snap. Click. Good sound in the quiet trees. Clipped it over a dry cedar root so it stays off the mud.