I lean my shovel, against the icy snow lining the bottom of my driveway. Exhaustion clouds my thoughts. At least I have defeated the mechanical monstrosity called the snowplough truck. This time maybe it will not come for a while.
I watch the dirty brown trickle of melt water, as it skirts the melting floes. The steady sound of the trickle falling down the rusty rainwater grate, calms my mind. The tired, muddy ice hides the silent arrival of long awaited friend. Only the trickle whispers in my ear, “Spring is coming.”
The world swirls around me. The mountain of ice shrinks before my eyes. The sound of bird fills the air. Spring. The icy citadels of Winter’s harsh rule shrink and dissipate into the warm air. Trees blossoms and grass grows and the sun melts the last of the snow. Spring. A time of a new beginning.
Only I stand shrouded in a icy sheath. My heart encased in my frozen body, shimmers slightly. The shimmer can not melt the icy sheath. Neither can the sun. Who will unable melt my being? When will my soul’s eternal winter end?
I turn away. The ice and snow returns. The slushy floes melt slowly. As I walk away, I hear the trickle of meltwater whisper in my ear, “Spring is coming.”
Originally posted: Saturday, March 3, 2007 @ 08:44
Author’s comments: Shoveling snow can really wind you. And then you get strange ideas… like this one I had. My deoxygenated brain seems to come with strange, colourful delusions. Now if only I could write properly when not under the influence of sleep deprivation, caffeine or excessive snow shoveling. This was the last post of the One-Time Trash Pad project.