moving day, rumbling day

Everyday the Snow Movers come. It takes a while for a small town to wake up from a snow storm that dumps one and a half to two feet of snow (who can tell with all of the drifting and wind-ing). And so every day the Snow Movers come. I hear them rumbling outside, like earth movers moving our white earth from the mountains that have piled up. The streets have been cleared and walls of white line them. Their shoulders are full of lumpy ruts and each parking lot has their respective hill. In drives the Black Cat followed by the dump truck. Shovel, dump, shovel, dump, shovel, dump.
Everybody keeps wondering if the spring will bring more national news flooding because the snow isn't going anywhere, not really, even the snow they drive away will still be in the sound of our voices. It may rearrange itself into new shapely drifts, but it will hang around.