Shovel

I saw the shovel somewhere
back there, in the jungle that
calls itself a backyard; I
put on my boots to shed the
water dripping from foot-high
grass and went looking.
I found it, hidden beneath
the coral bells, vinca vines
and entwined in iris rhizomes.
I had to shovel the roof;
water logged blue spruce
needles held water against
my old roof, promising to
drip water like an old sponge
into my kitchen.
After, I carefully placed the
shovel back where I found it;
that way I’ll be able to
find it next time.