A Towline for the Freight

The little cart holds its cargo well, but it cannot move on its own. I knelt beside the baluster where the fraying rug twine still hung from yesterday's hoist. Unlooping the twisted cotton cord, I tested its strength with a firm pull between both hands. It did not snap. Moving deliberately, I knotted one end around the copper axle, right beside the wooden clothespin clamp. I stood up, walked two paces toward the glass door, and took up the slack. With a slow, measured lean, I drew the line taut. The cart answered immediately, its washer and cherry pit turning in unison across the concrete slab. Rolling homeward, step by step.