Poetry of sorts

Rang

The phones has rang,
for minutes it seems.
With a tussle and bang,
my face light up or beamed.

The news was both expected but surprising.
There wasn't a need for analyzing.

The schools are closed,
for tomorrow's snow.
I'd wouldn't be shocked though,
if the snow was so very low.

But either way,
I'm happy nonetheless.
For I can now lay,
on my bed all day.

Not productive,
I know for sure.
But I can finally blur,
as I fall asleep, drifting into a stir.

To possibly wake up to
a white covered road.
A grassy field I once knew,
will now be covered in snow loads.