Muffled World, White Hush

Woke to a quiet, thick and deep,

the streetlights soft and blurred.

The old snow held its frozen sleep,

no single sound was heard.

Then new snow fell, a feathering sound,

on all the drifts below.

It piled up on the hardened ground,

a silent, steady flow.

The heater fan, a distant hum,

seemed softer than before.

Each usual noise had overcome

its purpose at my door.

No engine whine, no siren's shriek,

just density and white.

As if the world forgot to speak,

or dimmed its inner light.