Early morning and my car
is mired in the snow, here on
my driveway’s steep slope. Knee deep
in cold, I dig out snow from
before and behind tires.
Strangers, so warm in their cars,
drive by and drive by. When one
stops, I don’t notice until
I hear the chuck chuck of one
more shovel digging, tossing
damp snow. We work silently,
freeing the tires: he guides me
into the street with such care.
I thanked him, who refused to
tell me his name, only asked
that I help others in need;
I thanked him, whose witnesses
were only snowdrifts and the gold
Tamaracks on the corner.
