Ode to a Snow Shovel

My kitchen drawer beds a dandy tool,
Used January through December Yule.
I mix a bowl of chocolate dream,
It scrapes the sides and folds in the cream.
When I need to stir, into the boiling sauce it will go,
Or I stuff it in the freezer to wait with the dough.
By the end of each meal, it’s been washed and rinsed thrice,
My heart beats “thump, bump” for such a functional device.

Then out to the driveway with shovel I trudge,
Time to move snow – a chore I begrudge.
The shovel leaves trails of uncaptured snow,
The handle breaks off, in the trash it will go.
Every years it’s the same, I’m left so bereft,
Until I find a snow shovel made by Pampered Chef.

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