Cailleach

From the old days of yore, found in Irish folklore
There's a goddess of winter who rules
Now in Spring it's her chore, to replenish the store
Of the wood that she burns in her fire.
If the weather's not sore, she can gather some more
And the winter will last six weeks longer
But what many hope for, is that thunderous roar
With the rainy day weather it fuels
She won't open her door, and she'll gather no more.


Convention: Internal Rhyme
Form: Magic9
Genre: Folklore