The dreadful job of…
Shoveling!
Every swift move of the screeching, scratching shovel makes me wince and cringe.
Shoveling is the very opposite of music.
The slippery, sliding ice underneath the wretched snow makes every move cautious.
I can’t feel my fingers, toes, not even my nose.
My breath is short while I constantly feel wispy chills run down my back.
As the wind hits my face with every swift move I take.
Why am I out here instead of sipping hot chocolate?
Why am I out here instead of holding warm,
buttery popcorn in a bowl?
Why I am not underneath a heated blanket watching “Titanic”,
I do not know.