Snow night

The seismic rumble of a plow
vibrating the china plates and teacups,
slicing and quaking through the snow,
plucking out fresh potholes
and enclosing mouths of driveways
in sugary embankments.

The industrious
scrape, heave, scrape, heave
of an ambitious neighbor,
aiming to lessen the weight of tomorrow's excavation.
As for me, my toes are too warm,
and my eyes too heavy,
to join in the dig.

Pajamas hanging on a hook, betrayed
and slippers tucked away
in favor of the wooly sweater and socks
worn throughout the storm today.
Dear companions who have borne witness
to the ever rising drifts.

The slow swell and bellow of snores
from the other side of the bed,
a sign of peace,
despite it keeping me awake
and competing with the plows.
The risk of disturbing your dreams
is not worth a gentle nudge
campaigning for quiet.