JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1983

At Turning Time


I rode by the light of the moon
It wasn't late, still not too soon,
Under a star-lit sky,
Thru blurry eyes of whiskey and rye,

Earlier I thought I was insane
As I thundered thru the rain, 
Hours of riding showing on my face, 
My muscles were feeling the pace.

In the darkness of the nite, 
I rode my lonely flight,
I'd had a brother till now, 
We'd lost connection somehow.

He'd gone his own way in may,
Too heavy for me I had to stay,
He had loaded his electraglide
Bid me farewell, and took it in stride,



Words of joy in a letter, 
Spoke freedom that couldn't be better 
On a rainy day in the morning mail, 
His kite came things gone stale, 


His story wasn't all that long,

It read like a Blues Brothers song,
They got him by surprise,
clipped his wings,
seems that he was short some things

Asked if I would come to his side
I busted ass on this ride.
Seems he'd found some thing to share,
I knew that I should be there, 

It was a long long nite,
Then in the morning light,
He told me with a smile of pride,
Of the lady that was to be his bride.
- Mountainman