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

Chasing Rainbows