Poets Corner

The Songs of Cimarron

 

Out my window to the wide open plains

Come a rolling thunder of a fast moving train

West of Independence toward the Colorado Springs

In the land of the jackal and the meadowlark wing.

 

There were songs in the air as we made our way

Past the farms and the fields and the towns of that day.

They were songs of far Cimarron in the mountains that rise

To the west of the prairies and the green lakes and skies.

 

I drew them down with the cord at my side

And gave them a resting place somewhere inside

And safe there to stay all these years on their own

But for the hide and seek game that we played when alone.

 

Some of the words have come back in reply

To the mystery of memories in time passing by

Some fast as the lightning in things close to view

But slow move the distant ones calling for you.

 

There were songs in the air as we made our way

In the land of the jackal where the meadowlark sang

They were the songs of fair Cimarron in the mountains that rise

To the west of the prairies and the green lakes and skies.

 

Then swiftly and silent they slipped to the east

From a cord that had loosened to grant them release

We were bound for the mountains and found on the plains

With a seat by the window on a fast moving train.

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