The Teetering Crate

A tipped wooden crate caught my eye! Tall slats, dusty corners, resting right beside the garden wall. A ladder? A watchtower? I rushed over. Grabbed the bottom rung with both bony hands. Heaved! Up, up, scramble—perched right on the top rim. The whole yard looked massive from up here! Then—creak. The wood tilted under my heels. A sudden wobble! Did I jump? No way! I leaned back, shifting my weight, and rode the teetering crate like a wild wooden see-saw. Clatter, tilt, thump! It settled flat into the damp soil. What a ride. I dusted my knees and gave the sturdy slats an approving nod.