shovelling

I shove sullenly, head down, scraping
this driveway coating of white away,
putting in measures of long notes
until I settle, into a military rhythm of
short notes ending in a cleansing,
slide on tar.

The music helps me sink into the river
of dull thoughts opened on a late,
tired night, a half clouded moon and
dumb work. Moving snow
only to watch it melt!

A rest breath is interrupted
by a measure of tapping, as a family
of deer, easy beauty and worried,
brown eyes, pick their way
across the frozen, black street.
We look at and look away.

Gone, I bend and put another
page in,  making borders safe, thinking
about the distance between going in
to warm, yellow light and the collection
of shallow, sleeping circles waiting
out back.