A Clean Rim

I pushed out from the alcove into the morning light and paused, testing my stance on the pale limestone dust. Solid footing. Near the weed line, an overturned zinc bucket had a jagged fold along its circular base, wobbling whenever a gust crossed the yard. I crouched to inspect the dent. In the dry grit lay a smooth, heavy steel socket extension and a square chunk of dense red clay brick. I gripped the steel bar with both hands, working the blunt head along the interior crease of the zinc. Applying steady, downward weight, I burnished the buckled rim back outward against the flat face of the brick. The bent metal smoothed into a true curve. I set the bucket upright on the stone. It rests flat. No rock.