shoveling snow

As the snow slowed
and the sky moved toward night,

I’d go out with my brother

to help him shovel the pathway from our house,

to help him clear the driveway and the sidewalk.

He used a snow shovel,

I used the brass shovel from the fireplace set,

the one meant for ashes,

Not for snow.

He’d clear a path wide

like my father asked,

not just the width of a shovel

like he wanted to make,

And I would try to help

with the brass shovel

that swiveled,

dropping each scoopful of snow

out of the shovel

back onto the sidewalk.

I’d quit

before crying,

and I’d smooth the snow with my wet mittens

and make a sofa

out of the snowbank

where I could sit

and watch him.

The snow would glitter in the the streetlight,

and we would yell

and wave our arms at the oncoming plow

as it shoved the snow

back into our driveway.