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 |  More poems for Promptly Poetry, stuffed into this book because I have reached my limit. |
| As night falls, snowflakes swirl under lampposts stealthily building banks and drifts in the shadows. They lay where they fell, and no measurements taken. There’s nothing to do but sleep while they silently blanket the motionless street. At four a.m., the snowplow hazards a warning. It rumbles along, scrapes it jaw along the rough road, squawks a retreat, then repeats it. Morning lights are flashing, twinkling like a holiday display. The DPW trucks grumble in a salty way. And when the sun rises the blue tinge of night has gone. The sunshine is golden the snow glistens like diamonds. Neighbors with masked faces set snowblowers to growl, or clang shovels against the sidewalk. It’s going to be a white Christmas |
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