Sunlight on Shovel

It's damn cold out there.
Subzero, they say.
I rise from my corner of kitchen
to fiddle with the heat, when
my eye catches sight of sunlight
beaming a single ray
onto the front porch, onto the snow shovel,
in fact. It is so clear
about what it is doing,
this shining,
that even the green plastic
I don't know what else to say,
except that it doesn't take much,
even in the wild of winter,
to melt me.


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