The Prayer of the Snow Shovel

As I shovel, I give thanks for the snow, for our lakes our empty.
As I shovel, I am filled with gratitude that my body is strong enough to scoop the copious fluff off the sidewalk and onto the buried lawn.
The scrape of metal against pavement and the fluid motion of the toss becomes hypnotic.
Because I know what it is to be a single home owner, my shovel and I visit each next-door neighbor in turn in the hopes it somehow makes their day easier.
I have become an implement of purpose, an appreciative observer, my hands moving of their own accord.
The snow and I, we have reached an understanding.  It falls from the heavens, and I ascend to a higher self.
As I shovel, I not only uncover the driveway, I uncover parts of myself.