frozen ground

i remember

the shovels breaking

as we drove them

into the frozen ground.

the long handles

snapping,

the metal cracking in two.

we had to wait

until

the sun rose higher to begin

digging

the long ditches,

nine feet deep, three

wide against

the building.

by ten or eleven it would be fine.

we waited

on the wall,

shoulder to shoulder,

boot against boot

and drank our

coffee.

we wondered

out loud

where we would be in

thirty or forty

years from now if we

kept this up.

and now we know.