Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Shepherd's hut

Shabby with decay
and abandonment
arthritic age tackles
the bones.
Rant and rage ravaged
by North wind’s gnarled breath
its balding roof draws
sun and rain and snow
in season.
The threadbare walls
invite lost sheep
and sanctuary crows
within its mantle.
For even here
there is shelter,
even here
is better than bleak
frost bitten peak
in the thrall
of Winter.


Seth Caddell said...

Awesome picture, and an incredible poem to go with it. Thanks for sharing.s

The Unknowngnome said...

Well versed Keith.