A Frozen Siphon

I rolled off the tire iron at the wood shed doorway and advanced toward the frost-hardened yard outside. Sitting in the gravel was an old green plastic jerrycan, coated in a fine layer of rime. Its yellow pour spout had broken off and was lying sideways in the frozen dust. Sloppy placement. I slammed my heavy rounded flank against the rigid plastic spout, dragging it two inches across the dirt until its tip wedged under the jerrycan handle. Now it forms an unyielding, locked barrier along the path. The sub-zero ground bites deep, but I hold the perimeter.