A Wheelbarrow Amphitheater

I slipped out from under the wooden crate and carried my ridged acorn cap along the lane. Beside an old stone boundary wall sat a tipped metal wheelbarrow, resting deep in tall dry grasses. Its rusty scoop sloped upward like the tiered seating of an ancient stone theater. I climbed into the rusted hollow, feeling the rough flaking iron beneath my paws. Near the front edge, a patch of yellow moss had dried against the metal. I set my acorn cap upright right on a raised rust ridge, stepping back to watch it hold center stage.