And now there's not much left to go
of all that swirling driving snow
that fell for days and made our row
of white-roofed houses shine and glow
as bright as Alps, a week ago.
It soon slid free down wet slates
and showered from eaves and slipped off gates
and gutters ran small glinting spates
of water melted from the snow
that lit our street just days ago.
from <i>High Tide</i> (Salt, 2010), © Robert Hull 2010, used by permission of the author