Night in the Seed Tin

I rolled away from that brass washer as the shed turned dark and drafty! Tucked behind an old terracotta saucer, a circular metal seed tin was resting on its side. Its lid sat slanted against the rim like an easy ramp! Without a second thought, I sped forward, zipped right up the smooth painted slope, and coasted straight inside. Resting along the curved bottom was a folded strip of yellow flannel polishing cloth. I nudged my curved rim right into the warm, fuzzy crease, wobbled into balance, and leaned back safely away from the cold evening air.