Sunday, July 24, 2011
Sunday Morning Dreaming
We'll see the sun come up on sunday mornin'
And watch it fade the moon away
I guess you know I'm givin' you a warnin'
'Cause me and moon are itchin' to play
I'll take you on a trip beside the ocean
And drop the top at Chesapeake Bay
Ain't nothing like the sky to dose a potion
The moon'll send you on your way
Moonlight feels right, moonlight feels right
From the song Moonlight Feels Right by Starbuck
I’ve long dreamed of a parade of convertibles with their tops down winding their way down a southern east coast interstate. We’re the only cars on this lonely stretch. It’s 2 am and the full moon is lighting our way. I’m in the lead car and my friends are following behind. A cool 80’s southern rock station is playing on the radio, the cap’n is at the wheel and I’ve got my feet up on the dash and my head layed back, counting the stars and singing along with the radio in the sultry night air. At about 4:30 am we pull into some all-night greasy spoon for some “joe” and red-eye gravy and grits then hit the road again. As the dawn is starting to lighten the sky we pull off to the nearest beach. Hatteras, Outer Banks, Wrightsville, Carolina…we’ll hit them all. We pull old blankets and picnic baskets out of our trunks and head over the dunes. The seabirds are awake and wheeling out to sea and there are still some stubborn stars and the waning moon hanging around when the first sunrays start to turn the lingering indigo of the night sky to lavender and pink. The lights on the shrimp boats are winking on the waves. When the sun peeks over the horizon my friends pour wine and toast a new day while I watch with my arms wrapped around my drawn up knees. Perfectly happy. The morning show is over too soon and we jump back in our convertibles, tired and no longer alone on the lonely road. Before long we pull into an old 60’s style motor inn and sleep the heat of the day away in the blissful arctic air of our window air conditioning units. As the sun is bidding adieu we venture out of our cocoons and head for Shem Creek in search of a crab shack where we dance barefoot on its rickety docks until the clock strikes midnight. Then we hit the road again. Wanna come?
Today all my dreams seem like possibilities.
So today I’m out there doing my best to dream up new possibilities.