O'er the Causway road To the lands of the giants We smile as the Atlantic roars below The path is green, our hearts says go
Past the rope bridge we sidle on The skerries frighten us with their brawn Careful o' oncomers Breath in, they're vaughn
The architect's house Provides little shelter The harbour fights The seaweed felters
Near the hill, the Scots and Rathlin anew No time to stop, no time for a brew The waters rage No traffic, no queue
We reach the beach 'n cross the stream The weather draws in The water's sea beam
Back home via Bushmills The Inn is a stop Guinness and mussels The head, what a top
On reflection we drop our pace For this happy journey is not but a race What a joy those places are for me What a joy for you to see
The beautiful causeway coast road from Portrush to Ballycastle in Northern Ireland. Home to the Giants Causway, Bushmills whisky, Rathlin island a view of Scotland .'Vaughn meaning youth, felters is the German for gather or mat".
It’s as bright as hell my eyes are squinting Due-east the sun is rising The shining snow welcomes a break from days of overcast Banshee and I aimlessly walk across the frozen lake to avoid the traffic of the winding slippery busy roads Dead critters feathers and fur cars and trucks slip and swerve Ice fishers on the horizon year rounders in summer cottages Far and few people but hardly alone So I sit on this ice and write this poem ...............
So you think my storm is done at last? Just watch and wait till summers end. When, with a quiet rumble I return. As a single jar of lightning left. To speak the words of thankfulness. And to spark one more glorious storm to pass.
Nothing lasts forever. But for one more year. I'm just a notherner bringing one final southern storm to pass. God give me the strength and focus to do my best.