A Cover Much More Cold

On the afternoon after thirty-six hours
of constant storm clouds
and near constant snow fall,
I sit looking out over
the fourteen plus inches of white
that overlays the ground.
The sun having arrived
in time to set this evening
shimmers like a mirror
on the snows
which seem to be saying,
"Look at me, look at me."
It's hard to see anything else
as the snows have bleached the landscape
a whiteness.
Not a blanket,
but a cover much more cold.