Miscalculating the accumulation
I fit my tires in two tracks
to plow down the alley.
A short cut to a spot
that would do for the night.
And got stuck.
How circumnavigational
possession controlled the steer
over 6 new on 5 measured.
It was not the time
to challenge the tread.
More stuck it became.
Shovel in hand full of snow
the stranger at the precise
hour of need, arrived.
He’d his own path to cut but
found to my dilemma drawn.
The ruts dug deeper.
Moving from first to reverse
in rapid succession kicking
up piles of rubber burned freeze.
His exertion sweating to move steel
mixed a concoction of salted ice snow.
Nothing was moving.
As chill set in we found a rhythm
his push my shift set the wheels
pulsing back to a tolerable depth.
Lapping round the block to find
the spot, I lost sight of him.
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