***
fatigue that is
deeper than bones
in wiry old strength
today shovels
last night’s snow. more is
delivered fresh each morning,
white, new, heavy with the
weight of ice and
hidden dust. on the private stage of
grey-blue sky, each crystal
dances its own path,
shaped in lonely ways of its
own choosing, its flutter
choreographed to some music
that he cannot hear. but once they have
settled, lain down, capitulated,
he cannot see their differences:
fused by melt together they
conspire to make obtrusive mounds.
they cannot now
in graceful repose recline
nude upon the finger, nor
dissolve deliciously on the tongue,
but are fit only to be shoveled,
displaced, moved from the path but
never eliminated, piled on the side,
lingering in sight as he passes,
coasting, sliding in his wake like
ancient icebergs silently back into the
treads left by old tires.
***
inputoutputmodule 