Saturday night
sun still above the western horizon
you drive north along the lake
windows down
dogs in the back seat
black lab grinning
her head hanging out the window
with her ears flying
music blasts from the speakers
you sing “The Ties That Bind”
at the top of your lungs and out of your range
big wooden schooner
out there on the water with two other boats
white sails luffing on light autumn air
as all three come about
sun dipping down behind the trees now
photographers call this the Golden Hour
this ephemeral span of moments
when everything glows
in magic light
you drive past vineyards,
a horse farm, and spent fields of corn
singing the chorus as loud as you can
your voice cracks, breaking out of your comfort zone
jangly guitars and jubilant saxophone
push your ears to the limit
evening air swirls through the open window
you brake and turn hard right
heading for home
