was so hard our shovels
broke
in trying
to dig along the side
of the house.
the four of us took
turns.
with a pickaxe,
or shovel,,
one after the other
each taking a swing at it,
pulling dirt out.
it was a days work.
it was cold, but we
were young
and anxious for a paycheck.
and when
it snowed,
or rained, we kept
at it.
blisters under our
gloved hands, our faces
red,
our ear frozen.
but strangely we were
bonded,
comrades in arms,
somehow
making it fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment