A High-Flying Chime Recital

I ambled out through the porch screen, determined that the afternoon breeze needed my expert conducting! Suspended from a black iron bracket hung a grand set of polished brass wind chimes, their pipes dangling like an orchestra awaiting a maestro. A high-stepping gent doesn't let good brass go unplayed. I scampered onto the cedar railing, took a dashing leap, and caught the round wooden clapper cord with both hands! Back and forth I swung like a grand trapeze prince, sending the brass tubes ringing in a glorious, echoing chord. The chime spun wildly, bouncing my heels off a fluted pipe until I dropped neat into a soft pot of purple petunias, snickering like a king!