A Lead Plumb Bob

I descended from the upper wall bracket in measured footholds, stepping onto the narrow pine ledge beneath the shed window. Sunlight broke across a forgotten solid brass plumb bob lying sideways in dried cedar shavings. I paused. Motionless. I reached with one primary talon and tipped the conical weight upright on its flat base. It pivoted with dense, heavy resistance, its tapered tip pointing skyward like a polished spire. My claw engaged the grooved brass rim. Cold. Perfectly balanced. It will not roll.