Gear and Stone Alignment

I hopped down the front steps and marched four blocks toward the neighborhood clock tower. Broad stone stairs. Clear view. Right on the third step, a discarded brass washer lay canted against a dried leaf. Disrupted corridor. Immediate action needed. I anchored my parcel tight against my ribs, gripped the brass ring with my beak, and dragged it two paces back onto level granite. With two firm taps of my orange felt feet, I spun it flat and parallel to the riser edge. Step cleared. Route open.