Night Moves – On Connections

A Collection Inspired by “Night Moves” – A song written and performed by Bob Seger. One of my absolute favorite songs ever.

I was a little too tall
Could’ve used a few pounds

Tight pants points hardly renown
She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes
And points all her own sitting way up high

Way up firm and high

Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy
Out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy
Workin’ on mysteries without any clues
Workin’ on our night moves

Trying’ to make some front page drive-in news
Workin’ on our night moves in the summertime
In the sweet summertime

We weren’t in love oh no far from it
We weren’t searching for some pie in the sky summit
We were just young and restless and bored
Living by the sword
And we’d steal away every chance we could
To the backroom, the alley, the trusty woods
I used her she used me
But neither one cared
We were getting our share

Workin’ on our night moves
Trying to lose the awkward teenage blues

Workin’ on out night moves
In the summertime
In the sweet summer time, summer time

And oh the wonder
Felt the lightning
And we waited on the thunder
Waited on the thunder

I woke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered

Started humming a song from 1962
Ain’t it funny how the night moves
When you just don’t seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in

Night Moves
Night moves (night moves)
Night moves (night moves)

Yeah, Remember, night moves
Sure do remember those night moves (night moves)
Ain’t it funny how you remember (night moves)
Funny how you remember the night moves
I remember, I remember, I remember, I remember night whoa, whoa
It’s works, Working and practicing
Oh, on the night moves
Working and practicing….

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My Post (18)

Euro Mutt

“The world’s trash and mutts – the whole lot of them, in ships every day by the dozen.” – Matilde H. Journal Entry (est. 1880) recording of an overheard comment during passage to an American port (NYC). German Immigrant – 16 at the time of passage. Traveled alone.

Or, personal labels I am comfortable with – by Matilde H. (1883)

My sense of beauty is Italia,

simple yet bold.

pragmatism of Deutschland

thoughtful and structured

attitude towards others of France

laissez-faire but curious

passion of Scotland

misunderstood yet strong

presence of England

conservative and reserved

pace of Espa√Īa

relaxed with meaning

purpose of Ireland

complicated and symbolic

surroundings are Kongeriket Norge

filled with peaceful tranquility

I do not love them,

Nor hate them.

I am with them.

Always.

 

My X-MAS Time Gift Wrap

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All of these precious gifts from you

they consume me

and often at times like these

oh how they can confuse me

“why am I acting my way

through Christmas again”?

I know we do not have much

in the way of material things

which sort of makes

  • it sting a little more.

Did these gifts

ever hold a real sparkle in your eye?

You heaped them on me

and I always knew

this was your display to me

of love¬†–

everybody could see.

I never learned to wrap a gift

decorative bags became an indispensable friend.

Perhaps I am lazy,

or have never found the perfect packaging

for my one and only true gift

to you.

 

 

 

 

Please Come Home

A 20-pound ball of empathy –

he is one of our marvelous creatures.

Has anything ever held a mirror up to your humanity

like an animal that loves or

an animal that fears?

Throughout history,

we have served each other’s purpose.

They are bred in our reflection

mutts at the core, wanting to be truly known,

begging for nourishment –

constantly.

*Chase ‚ÄĒ otherwise known as booter, booter-butt, chicken butt, or boo boo

We Came To Rest

We Came to Rest

I came

and my monster followed closely behind,

out here in the December air;

both ready

finally,

to rest.

 

Is this it?

Did the night air just speak to me?

The fullness of¬†her light is dancing as the wisps of vapor energy float by¬†–

a gradient drop of the pressure in the air.

 

Unfreeze my heart,

yes

please!

Have we located the

final resting place?

Something feels closer.

I feel it more so every day.