by Gerald McBreen
When he shut the door
it sent a shudder to the roof.
Disturbed snow, like a gust of wind,
came swirling around as if someone
tipped a snow bubble.
With shovel in hand, it seemed a shame,
to part a path on Nature’s canvas.
From door to street the deed was done.
Then, in front of his home, he cleared a lane
so children could walk to school.
Kids, toot and shout; play follow the leader,
breath clouds trailing from their faces
as they trudge knee deep
through mounds of snow his labor made.