Pickaxe Tribute

Late January Storm, 2026, Three Days After My Eightieth Birthday

Forgotten pickaxe, chance recovery
From the dark deep of the garage closet,
Launches old man on ten days of romance
Embodied adventure swinging against

Snow and ice encrustations of the house
That barred all ways in and all the ways out,
Snow made concrete by the freezing rain,
Not Moby snow, yet white and obdurate

Angle and force, pick and axe strike away,
Ice cracks, snowcrete resists, then faults in blocks.
Sun shines, each blow is work, calculation,
No screens involved, no pixels, breath right here

Storm was fierce, even fearsome, yet such ask
Of pickaxe instrument as sings this song