A shovel leans heavy against the old fence
by sharpmove
· 03/03/2026
Published 03/03/2026 17:46
A shovel leans heavy against the old fence,
its rusted handle tells tales of past tense.
Through snowdrifts piled high, I carve out a way,
a ritual of labor, of the chill of the day.
A rhythm emerges with each scrape of the ground,
where childhood memories still echo around.
The ache in my arms feels oddly like grace,
clearing a path in this white, endless space.