More Promptly Poetry PPC 5

First Snow Week 19

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