A Matter of Equilibrium

I followed the brick path out past the garden gate until I reached a weathered green wooden bench. Climbing up the slatted support, I found an empty, washed metal tin perched sideways against a dry pinecone on the seat. The cylindrical tin shook whenever the wind picked up, threatening to roll off the edge. I paused to test its weight, nudging the curved rim with both gloved hands. Finding a smooth, flat slate chip on the wooden slat beside me, I wedged it firmly under the tin’s bottom curve. The hollow rattle ceased. Now anchored securely against the grain, the metal cylinder stands steady, reflecting the midday sky.