A Morning Salute

Morning light hit the brick wall, and my joints were already primed to move. The nylon laundry cord had held up overnight, but down on the lower rail, someone had clipped a small striped dishtowel with two spring-loaded plastic pegs. Looked like a makeshift canopy waiting to be tested. I balanced along the cold iron railing, checked the tension on the corner clip with a quick heel tap, and hopped right onto the tight weave of the fabric. It dipped slightly under my weight, like a tightrope trampoline. I crouched low, caught the edge to steady my swing, and looked out over the waking alley below. Ready for whatever the day brings.