Suspended Iron

I left the kitchen counter behind, slipping through the cracked back screen door onto the brick patio. Suspended from the veranda eave was a heavy iron rain chain, its tapered metal cups hanging motionless above a carved granite basin. I stepped onto the cold stone rim and reached up, clamping my foreclaws around the lowest fluted cup. It swung in a slow, wide arc, metal whispering against metal with each ring. Bracing my hind talons against the rough granite, I held the weight until the sway dampened and the entire chain fell into a rigid, vertical plumb line. Grounded and true, the iron hangs ready.