A snowy road he took cross bridge to isle
in the sound. No crunch of snow heard he this
deaf traveler, this storm tamer, not while
wind-weaving, cloud reading, snowshoeing his
way home. For Serensalia he’s bound.
He writes ice messages that melt come spring.
He’s snow dancing, weather tracking around
the mount’n paths. Through gales he leads with daring
traders heading north past storms in safety
kept by magic shields that hold cold that kills
at bay. He channels lightning with piety
down paths inked on his skin, yes he’s got skills.
He’s your best bet if north your travels tend.
With him, you’ll live to reach your journey’s end.
~ ~ ~
Storm Tamers don’t live Shayari. I know; it’s shocking. But there’s more than one country in my fantasy world. Yes, they get their own book. They’re that cool.
thanks to One Word Photo Challenge: Winter for the prompt