C.A. Morrow

Twisting roads through green speckled hills
Red barns that dot a summer long gone
Skiers seeking perennial winter thrills
In woodlands deep and silently strong
...

Resting on the slope of a summer field
A youth gazes upwardly at nomadic clouds
The sun's almond light to them must yield
As a westerly breeze eases away mental clouds
...

Short grey days usher in darker nights
Trees long since give up their plight
As dying leaves float when they fall.
Angry wild geese cry as they call
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Rain drips icicily on Paris's April quay
As blossoms of cherry stir the misty air
The left bank ponders over cafe' au lait
While the whiff of tobacco releases the day's care
...

From the hammer to the anvil
From the sheath to the sword
From the eyes to the tears
From the blood to the rage
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If life is a fox, are we the howling hound?
Forever chasing toward the greener hills
Down on the moors searching firmer ground
Hunting forward for those distant thrills
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My heart often strolls through emerald glens
As my spirit flows with silver salmon rivers
Where thoughts take me around future bends
And the gentle winds make the willow trees quiver
...

The warrier stands tall with battle-ax
Outnumbered, he fears not coming death
To him, honor is not an unpaid tax
But his shield whose enemies blood will wet
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April showers sprinkle the new life
As the shepard smiles down at the lamb
Upon the recent hills of winter strife
The daffodils around the old ruins cram
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When I see you now, it is only in shadows
Smiling that smile that melted my past
Like distant summer days and harvest meadows
You comfort my memory and hold me fast
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Can I ever learn to be in the now and the here
to inhale the joy of the moment; the bliss of the hour
to erase the past pain and deny future fears
to remove the thorn and replace it
...

The acid rain couldn't wash the dirty cobbled street
of Saturday night urine and beer-induced vomit
Sunday morning was the old pensioners only treat
as they stumbled toward church in search of Haley's Comet
...

When the Rambler's race is nearly run
and the dust has long since settled down
he knows he can never give up the gun
nor let memories tempt him to whiskey drown
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To be alone but not lonely
To be strong but not merciless
To be content but not envious
To be away but not apart
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The boy runs hard to be a man
He fights as he acts to hurry time
His whole life is too slow for his plan
Never seeing the hills he must climb
...

Chasing the spirit in the flesh
Regrets the fool who blows the horn
Keep pushing the button to refresh
Youthful bliss submits to times forlorn
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As she looked into his eyes of steely blue
Of minted ice that beckons winter's rain
Tracks in pine forests, the grey wolf knew
Are solitary tears over scars of love's pain
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The autumn leaves crunch close to a spark
As I turn my cover up against the east wind
Making my weary way through the city park
My mind is set for yet another midlife freeze
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I've reached the bottom of another gin glass
still this torment and pain won't pass
The bar seems one huge waste of rubble
What it states is internal struggle
...

The glorious East wind howls through the trees
It brings man's nature to its knees
The spirits of fortune ride through the air
offering childhood adventure to those who dare
...