Courtenay


Courtenay, oh Courtenay, a sun-baked strip of tar
A straight and narrow garden path that I weave through in my car
A blur of green and brown and gray, the kind I've never seen
A lonely lane of rushing pace with nothing in between

Years ago you belched up hot and humid Southern air
Mosquito swarms and periwinkles fluttered here and there
Tower oaks and mossy climbs that slunk down to the ground
Firelight and old time stories dancing all around

Courtenay, oh Courtenay, you stretch between the trees
Groves of orange and yellow fruit, with boxes for the bees
Launch pads up ahead of me, brake pads for sale on my right
A luscious swirl of weeds and rusting misty morning light

   Sliding through the kind of days that often came and went
   A package full of marmalade that Sister Sarah sent
   The porch was tilted to the right under the player's weight
   The pluck of guitar lullabies so dearly missed of late

Courtenay, oh Courtenay, the rivers round you sleep
Lazy current waterways, seldom very deep
Children with cane fishing poles kneedeep in the sand
The lighthouse out Canaveral way, silent, tall and grand

Courtenay, oh Courtenay, they rush across you now
A pizza place, a billboard sign, a farmer and his plow
Phosporescent fireflies that whistle dixie tunes
Power lines and sleeping giants waiting for the moon

A blinding flash of smoking fire ripping through the clouds
Lights anew a wall of moss that only hints at what it shrouds
An old foundation and a piece of roof are all that I can see
As I buzz on by, necktied and late for meeting #3

   At one end a drawbridge sits stuck open for an hour
   A line of cars and trucks all spitting air so foul and sour
   At the other end there stands a bridge aimed upwards at the stars
   Overgrown, forgotten, silent relics laced with scars

Courtenay, oh Courtenay, a sun-baked strip of tar
A straight and narrow garden path that I weave through in my car
A blur of green and brown and gray, the kind I've never seen
A lonely lane of rushing pace with nothing in between
©Mike Runion, 1999
7/20/99