C.A. Morrow Poems

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
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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
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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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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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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
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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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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
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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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