Early morning snowshoe (at Bald Mountain)
Officially over the snow, but this is magical.
Showing posts tagged with “snow”
Shoveling Snow
Shoveling snow can give you a
sense of purpose when you don’t
feel one; say for instance it is a
gray morning, too early for work and
too late for sleep, and you are trying to
pull out the sliver of a poem, one about,
say, the loss of someone you didn’t
understand, or being haunted by a
violent ghost, or an indescribable
desire, or a sleeping child left in the
back seat of an empty idling car, or
a fear (with no name) of something
(with no name), or the smell of
the hair of that girl in homeroom,
or Death as a turnpike toll-taker, or
inappropriate envy, or something,
anything to give a stranger a lump
in the throat, but say these poems are
all cars without keys, dribble from a
fire hose, a single shoe, wet kindling…
then cutting a swath in silence through
blue-white powder feels good; altering
a landscape, clearing a path, maybe while
a snatch of Hendrix or Staples Singers
revolves in your head like a clockwork
mantra – then shoveling snow feels like
inspired important work, the kind
your pen and paper bailed on,
those lazy cowards.
Owen and Trelawney having Maine fun fun. Or as they call it, snomoboarding!
(Source: vimeo.com)
