As the night sets in so does the white snow
From the skies of many seasons come down to earth
As well as the sun, the hat comes on the head, the gloves
On the hands, as I prepare myself for the clock to strike ten
The sun is now gone, my eyes have now adjusted, coffee in one cup holder
And a water bottle in the other. My arm positions itself for the many long hours ahead,
the boss plow taps the white snow and the truck rockets forward,
the plow knifes the ice and white snow like a hot knife through butter.
As the night progresses forward, the snow slows to a dripping as the
Morning suns looms through the trees.