http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/shepherd-snow-trek-iran/

Every winter the snows brought cold and white and wet
And if that had been all they brought
Things probably would have been alright
But of course the snow brought something more

There are three lead characters in this legend:
A shepherd, bachelor, who lived at the northern reach of our land
Parents, not ill-intentioned, exactly, rather ill-mannered
And the Snowdrift, capital S, who was a thing and a monster and unfairly judged all at once

The land has a town, far north, but not quite all the way North
It sat just south of the grazing fields where the livestock fed and lived
In these fields, a lone Shepherd watched the animals
Tended them with patience and vigilance, in green summer and crisp winter
He lived on his own, in a small shack near the grazing fields
To be near his charges, to fulfill his duty

In winter in the North it snows once and remains until spring
Many things hide in the snow, wise prey and able predators
The smartest kids in a snowball fight
And, alas, danger
The Snowdrift wasn’t always a creature made of snow and wind and intimidation
It was, once, a great big pile of snow into which all the children
Of every town in the northern reach could jump
And crash down knowing the landing would be soft
The Snowdrift understood its role and enjoyed it
There are times when children need a hard landing
And times when they need one that is soft
And the Snowdrift was pleased enough to provide the more pleasant variety
Even if it was only for half the year

But not all the parents were as pleased
And they listed many reasons why they felt it inappropriate that, of all things
A snowdrift, lowercase s, was the soft landing for their children
Those reasons have been long since lost because there was an easier truth
They were jealous
They had to be the hard landing, on occasion
And they resented the Snowdrift, for it never shared that burden
One winter, the Snowdrift formed, and no children came
To jump on him, to land softly and, for a time, to forget
That not every fall precedes a hard landing

So he went to seek out the people, for he was worried
They’d come every winter for generations
Surely, only tragedy could be enough to keep them away
He parked himself outside of the nearby town
And waited for someone to come speak to him
And explain what had happened, and let him know how he might help
The parents sent no one
They thought he’d come to steal their children, and they locked their doors
And there they stayed, all winter, starving and cold
The way out of town blocked
By a friend they’d turned, unwittingly, into an enemy

This happened every winter for ten years
The parents would save food and water and firewood
And settle down for the siege
That was not, in fact, a siege, but rather a friend unwilling to be left behind

The tenth spring was late in coming, that summer dry, and that autumn short
The harvest was small, the river low, and the snow came early
Parents panicked, and locked up the town too soon
With supplies too low for a winter that lasted for what seemed an eternity
When the circumstances became dire, they sent out a man
Brave, from his viewpoint
Delayed, from the Snowdrift’s

The man tried to duck around the Snowdrift
But he was spotted
The Snowdrift, ten years on, was stricken with grief
So sure was he that something ill had befallen the kids of the town
And he asked, in his ethereal whisper, like snow being blown through a light wind
“Where are the children?”

The man, brave in his own eyes before, became something else
And bolted
He ran through the snow-blanketed forest
All the way to the next town without pause
He arrived and delivered the startling news
“Our town is under siege by a Snow Monster! We need supplies!”
And promptly collapsed, most of his body covered in frost bite

Once more, adults who were also parents wouldn’t go
The risk not outweighing the reward
But luck was on their side, for the shepherd was in town
And he volunteered without hesitation to sort out the situation
He strapped a pack of supplies to his back
And marched north, to fulfil his duty

Unlike the panicked man from the town, the shepherd had hits wits about him
He took the easiest possible path which was, alas, not so easy
But it led, through trees and over hills and across waist-deep snowy plains
To the town. And to the Snowdrift

The Shepherd rounded the Snowdrift, not recognizing it for the Monster
So he was startled when the Snowdrift asked, in that strange voice
“Where are the children?”
“Inside, I imagine,” the Shepherd replied. “There’s a Monster about.”
“Oh no! I knew something was amiss,” the Snowdrift answered. “How can I help?”
The Shepherd completed his hike around the Snowdrift, and answered
“Watch the road. Stop anything suspicious.”
“Of course. It’s been ten years since anyone from town spoke to me.”
The Snowdrift was melancholy, and maybe it required the Shepherd’s patience and vigilance
To recognize what had happened. So he stopped and asked
“Ten years?”
“Ten long years, though I admit I melt in the spring. So there are breaks.”
The Shepherd bowed his head, and recalled the not-that-brave man’s story
And once he’d processed what little he now knew of the Snowdrift
He guessed there was no Snow Monster at all

He finished his walk into town and asked about the Snow Monster
Though he felt no pleasure when his guess was proven correct
He asked the parents about the Snowdrift, but stopped
Realizing he needed the real story, and found a young man who was
Not so long ago, a child. When the Shepherd asked about the Snowdrift
The young man relayed tales of jumping and trusting and falling
With a soft landing
And the Shepherd understood who, exactly, had been monsters

It took some doing, but he explained the misunderstanding to the parents
He walked back to the edge of town and explained it to the Snowdrift
Soon thereafter he left, because there were other, furrier livestock to tend
In the winter, they needed reassuring, and he couldn’t wait around
He had to go north, head ducked against falling snow
To fulfill his duty