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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The October storm In the valley would form The rain and hail damage would perform And meteorologists would predict another such storm In the old house man is holding his wife’s pale hand Hoping she and the unborn child would live not die and be buried in a woodland For a doctor he has send with the voice that would both plea and demand But before he gets here past the moorland It will take long time doctor won’t be here soon While meteorologist predicts in a couple days a typhoon The man looks through the window seeing red visage of harvest moon Even if his child will live it will die of hunger if man can’t harvest the grain soon Before typhoon arrives or valley dries As he is thinking that his wife dies But the child survives And on the bed it now lies Man gives the child bottle and goes to harvest the grain This entire situation is enough to make him insane A miracle he now needs to attain As he is cutting the grain his spirit is in great pain The air is dense and muggy and expression of moon fills man with fear When on it lines like scuffs begin to appear The scuffs are representations of scuffs on Madonna’s facet he would hear And when those reach to her heart means apocalypse is near He walks through his field undaunted Even though he fears it might be haunted Something primeval whispering in the wind is last thing he wanted But the echoes of Gods worshiped before man had grain now sang their ballad Suddenly he saw visions of strange creatures from the past But it was the goat walking like a human that appeared last Its dismal shadow on the man it would cast It said if he wishes his son to live his own soul forsake he must The man was ready to do what from the devil he would hear But suddenly huge owl would appear Its presence filled the goat man with fear And soon devil would disappear The owl would suddenly transform And less terrifying was her form It was a man’s wife smiling at him against the storm They embraced knowing what miracle divine would just perform
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