Twelve hours ago and, man, he's the best.
All day bucking a 40 inch snow
And they say she's dropping to 10 below.
Plow and shovel and start and stall,
Spread the sand, and heave, and haul.
Twelve long hours on a man-sized chore,
And he wont be home for another four-
For the drifts still tower all over town,
Though the snow has stopped and the wind's died down,
He'll miss his dinner and he knew he would,
(It's a damn good thing the coffee's good).
But dinner and sleep are the sacrifice,
For taking the teeth out of the snow and ice,
To know that the traffic is moving nice.
That the buses are making it when they're due,
That the dads get home and the trucks get through.
That tomorrow the ski slopes will be jammed all day,
and the kids will be getting to school ok.
Bad weather's his job and his job is grim,
But the highway gets cleared and it's thanks to him.
But thanks is a word that'll get no heed,
When you talk to a guy of the snow fighter breed.
"look that's my job", is all he'll say,
It takes a man to feel that way.
Thos. H. Johnson
South Lake Tahoe/Meyers
Cal Trans, State of California
Maint. Yard
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