As the drifts softly cover
The world in a pure white blanket,
There is within the stone walls of this shelter
A mad dash for mismatching mittens, snug caps,
Oversized coats; any article of warmth;
As they race to see which will be the first to disrupt
The calm and make a fortress for the civil war,
With carrots and Oreos for the refugees;
Who stay until the sweat rolls from their faces
Into a puddle of top hats, sticks and scarves;
Their rations long stolen away by the red-coats.