Shovel Stares At Me Waiting

Cold air holds me in her grip Fierce and unfriendly, Reminding me who is boss of this below zero, minus twenty wind chill day. Shovel stares at me, waiting. A push ahead day or an under scoop and throw day? Different snow types deserve specific, diverse ways of removal. My foot slips. giving me a clue. Recognizing an under scoop and throw day. I begin my tedious task, watching rows of black asphalt rise up to meet the white tundra. It is March, Time for blizzards to be over. Loud angry scraping noises from the patient shovel, remind me that most things winter are not in my power. Written 3-01-2019 Contest: A Scraping of Shovels Sponsor: John Lawless