Old years ago, the jaunty task
\nof cleaning out a driveway
\nafter it had filled with snow
\nwas frivolous stuff: a way
\nof showing off for girls
\nhow easily he sectioned
\nout each cube of snow
\nand hurled the hefty chunks
\nlike giant swaths of mountains
\nat furious start of planet earth.<\/p>\n
Now hard-packed snow He donned longjohns So slow so steadily He pictured steaming chocolate The wind blew saltic chaff Hard breath hissed out When he had to lean upon Old years ago, the jaunty task of cleaning out a driveway after it had filled with snow was frivolous stuff: a way of showing off for girls how easily he sectioned out each cube of snow and hurled the hefty … Continue reading
\nthe dreaded aniu<\/a>
\nwaited out the window:
\na kilo cubic feet
\npacked hard
\nby last night’s winds;
\narthritis stood like a wall
\nbuttressed by heart arhythmia
\nand lassitude of the golden years
\nbetween him and
\nshowing off for anyone.<\/p>\n
\nand heavy socks and
\npants and flannel shirt
\nand scarf and windbreaker
\nand jaunty toque
\nand heavy mitts
\nand winter boots
\nand went outside to face
\na thousand cubic feet:
\nit might as well be
\ndestiny he thought
\nfor this old man
\neach time he had to go.
\nIt was expected.
\nHe expected such.<\/p>\n
\nmethodical like tamping
\nsweet tobacco in a pipe
\nin mid sentence to a child
\nor skinning rabbits
\ncleaning perch with grandchildren
\nupon the dock in draining sun
\nin sweetly drawing August.<\/p>\n
\nin a mug inside the cosy kitchen
\nsoothing the hard ache
\nthat carved a hole inside his chest
\nan empty spot just right
\nto fill with rich warm chocolate.<\/p>\n
\nin streams across the piles
\nof chunks of anui
\nthat grew a field for forts
\nfor kids to play in
\ncarving cosy red-cheeked
\ndrip-nose fun for days.<\/p>\n
\nlike steam from some old
\nengine on a track
\nhauling freight for the
\nthousandth time up
\nhard-earned mountain passes
\nin the fabled west.<\/p>\n
\nthe shovel and catch up his breath,
\nthis was an unaccustomed place
\nto wait until the pain drained out:
\nbut body’s limits impose such toll
\non such as this old tilter of windmills
\nwho would remember viscerally
\nin joint and lungs and back
\nand arms and every cran and place
\nthat tortured flesh can find to list:
\na handful of days, a week,
\nregretting the future
\nuntil finally the driveway cleared
\nthe walkway, steps passable again
\nhe dragged his sorry ass inside
\nto face the soft ministrations
\nof tender loving hands
\nand warm chocolate.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"