Harsh winds of winter cutting through your soul.
Seek shelter from this bite before it takes a hold.
Shivering to the bone.
So far away from your warm home.
Out on the roads that are so bleak.
The ride is at least another 3 long weeks.
Lusting for a soft bed of comfort.
Instead being met with cold unforgiving stone.
Howl as the gusts pick up pace.
Feel uneasy during rest in such places.
Far removed from the norm.
Of being safe out of these storms.
Where leaves whirl like razor blades.
While driving rain makes all good spirits fade.
Getting closer now but still seems so distant.
Weather is now so abhorrent.
Would rather just curl up and cry.
A change of scene would be nice to spy.
At the centre all is calm.
This zone of tranquility an old farm.
I know it well for it is where I did grow.
A smile at last across my lips does flow.
Out of this harrowing weather through which I have rode.
Finally I will feel much better as I warm by this fire with those I know.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 