A Slip of Velocity

I stepped onto the front porch handrail, finding its varnished cedar surface worn glass-smooth by the sun. Rather than treading down the steps like an ordinary caller, I gathered my skirts, planted both heeled boots along the curved ridge of the wood, and let gravity take over. The bells on my horns jingled in a sharp, frantic chorus as the yard blurred beneath me in a streak of russet and green. Just before the drop, I caught the round wooden post with both gloved hands, swinging neatly around the finial in a sudden, breathless pivot. Even regal poise deserves a dash of sheer momentum.