Do Not Let Us Die In The Dark Night Of This Cold Winter

“The harbinger of our agonizing death is the crow's shriek. The storeroom in the center of our small town has been ransacked; the shelves lie naked and the empty barrels din like hollow bones when thumped. Folk scurry from home to home through the knee-deep snow, begging for scraps of food and furniture to burn. Many of the elderly have fallen ill and no end to their fever can be found. Our pain is as bitter as the biting, frosted wind and I fear we will not live to feel the first warm rays...