A Scraping of Shovels

When the snow arrives at night,
Blanketing the city,
All is peaceful, soft and white,
No longer gray and gritty.

But with morning, what we hear,
And there is no escaping,
Is the grating sound, so clear,
Of nonstop shovels scraping.

Sidewalks must be free of ice
And everyone so doing
Is not concerned with being nice,
But staving off some suing!