it is winter,
still
although warm days
deceive us
dead branches
brown lawns
desolation
now, finally, in a winter's
black night
giant, sodden,
perfect
snowflakes
drift
the sky clouded
full of snow
to make the night sky
day
we stand
each wielding a shovel
working
sharing the joy
in this
perfect
winter
moment
in which
the universe once again
seems to work
yet,
it is the bond
of the shared moment
which generates an
intensity of
closeness
a perfect understanding
between souls
strung out along
the driveway
shoveling snow
in a cloud of grey
steam