March 21, 2010

I didn't feel so bad till the sun went down...

Drove along the river road downstream from Shepherdstown today.  At the height of the flooding a week ago, the river topped out at close to 25 feet through this area (this person up near Williamsport got some photos that give an idea of what it was like).  On a typical spring day, the depth of the water is more like 3 feet and the scenery along shore is sparklingly pretty.  This winter was damned rough, though.  If I'd driven up this way last weekend, the road would've been submerged in waves of cafe au lait.  Instead, I was dodging potholes where the water had churned at the pavement.  It's obvious this has happened before over the years, as most of the houses along the road are either raised above garages or built way up the hillside.  The only structure anywhere close to the water's edge is the ruin of an old mill from near a hundred years ago.

Up in town, there were daffodils cropping up in people's yards and buds beginning to sprout on the tips of tree limbs.  Down here, the ground was scoured by river sand, what bits of grass there are flattened by the surging water and the tree trunks dragged along through it.  On the second day of spring, there are no signs of
tender new growth, only river detritus and leftover mud.  Just dead leaves and dirty ground.



Dead leaves and the dirty ground
when I know you're not around
Shiny tops and soda pops
when I hear your lips make a sound
when I hear your lips make a sound

Thirty notes in the mailbox
will tell you that I'm coming home
And I think I'm gonna stick around
for a while so you're not alone
for a while so you're not alone

If you can hear a piano fall
you can hear me coming down the hall
If I could just hear your pretty voice
I don't think I'd need to see at all
I don't think I'd need to see at all

Soft hair and a velvet tongue
I want to give you what you give to me
And every breath that is in your lungs
is a tiny little gift to me
is a tiny little gift to me

I didn't feel so bad till the sun went down
Then I come home
No one to wrap my arms around

Well any man with a microphone
can tell you what he loves the most
And you know why you love at all
if you're thinking of the Holy Ghost
if you're thinking of the Holy Ghost


The scene by the river matched my mood today.  I think... that I'm becoming tired of being alone.

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