The Plow Poem by Espen Øye Bjørkvold

Outside my window the snow is white,
a winter mist I see so bright.
I hear through chrystals snow on snow,
a distant engine of a plow.

The chrystals falling from the sky,
in a way which I can’t tell you why
On the ground there is heavy snow
the plow is getting nearer now

The window sticks just like a stamp
against my fingers, cold and damp.
I see the sight of untouched snow,
I see the fountain of the plow.

The plow went by ten minutes ago
back is now a usable road
I hear through chrystals, snow on snow;
the distant engine of the plow