Crashing, rumbling, scraper of blacktop
Spreader of sand, sprinkler of salt

I didn’t really put much thought into it, it just came out as the snowplow went by. RoZ said,  “Crashing, rumbling,” and I added the rest. She counted the syllables: 17, which – along with referencing the season – makes it a haiku by definition.

So for people who are much more “into” this kind of thing than we are, here you go.