Catching the Beam with Powder crotchet

I dug both knit heels into the grime and tilted a heavy brass hand mirror toward a crack in the catwalk rafters. Catch! A clean streak of morning light bounced right off the glass, throwing a brilliant golden circle onto the soot-black wall. I gave the frame a sharp shove to the left—whoosh, the sunspot leaped across three rusted rivets and smacked right onto an old valve handle. I wiggled my toes, rocking the glass side to side to make the bright dot dance like a glowing beetle. Down here in the gray fog, I’ve got my own personal spotlight!