A Low Zinc Echo

I pressed both curled fists against the wide belly of an empty galvanized watering can tucked beneath the potting bench. The thin metal gave a soft, springy shudder beneath my weight. With a gentle tap of my knuckles against the zinc flank, a low, hollow chime echoed deep within its empty chamber, like a quiet bell muffled in wool. I leaned my cheek against the cool curved side, feeling the faint vibration hum against my skin until the garden stillness settled back around me.