Lines of sleet falling
Give sound to the silent snow.
All the world is white.

Snow cloud blows off barn,
Dances lightly in the air
And then whisps away.

Stream has disappeared;
In its place endless white
And the sound of sleet.

Houses are all hushed;
Yellow lights burn as beacons
In the endless white.

Wind sounds like a car
Barreling down its own roads
Never to be seen.

Not a speck of sun,
Just the darkness and the whiteness
And the roaring wind.

A snow plow drives by
Padded in the thick whiteness.
Even trucks are soft.

The skipping brown leaf
Slides to a stop on the snow.
Waits for the next gust.

A distant trickle
Far beneath the thick white snow--
Stream is surviving.