conachlonn is and old irish lyric form rhyming the end with the beginning of lines
wind swirls round and round
sound of trees creaking in the night
might be frightened but snug and warm
normal sound inside my home
domicile built strong as stones
moans a bit through the cracks
racks of canned goods line the wall
fall was good and the fire is bright
might be able to sleep and dream
stream of consciousness growing dim
wind swirls round and round