A Winters Tale

A WINTER’S TALE Harrow winds in vales the gale Make objects on things impale Shutters slam shut open again Roofless cabins; with no panes Of hair and scarf; whipped face Scars left as in patterns of lace Pressures bore of such a force As nature left to run its course Winter madness kills ones core As from your body cloth is tore Only ones God can one implore Yet to your plea he does ignore No rock or tree given to rescue As forces sent; to oppress you Your welted soles; water seeps Vision blinded eyes doth weeps Thunder cracks a harrowing call Before leaving with morning fall Refuge is found against the gale As you have lived to tell the tale Indiana Shaw . . . -_-