Tread carefully tread
deeply. Tread white to brown.
Another footprint then
another.

Bird steps – lightly tracked arrows of starvation
pointing left then
pointing right.
I follow.

Bamboo.
Collapsed, crushed flat, bending flat, splattered flattered leaves.
Heaving fronds from weight of water, frozen water, freezing water.
Rescue.
Hands wet, hands groping
snow-wards
released canes jacking
sky-wards
slowly, oh so slowly.
Emerging.

Shovel. Blue plastic, moulded, one piece, tough.
Heave and throw, heave and throw.
Tarmac, black, unyielding,
Scrape and twist, scrape and twist.
Snow slabs slipping.
Shovel decides, shovel dictates.
Me, a machine, its tool:
swing forward, twist left, slide, recover,
swing forward, twist left, slide, recover,
swing forward . . .

Tracks, twin tracks, beckoning onwards,
memorial lines to effort past.
Walking up tracks,
walking up effort.