Gary Gardner (grgardner) wrote,
Gary Gardner

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Waxing Poetic

It seems that sitting in a legislative hearing listening to boring political posturing is unfortunately a major part of my job.  I was in the House Technology, Energy and Communications Committee (acronym TEC -- get it?) as they discussed the exciting topic of "Permitting Small Wind Generation Facilities".  This whole "green energy" thing is so much political pablum.  It even has the uber liberals fighting amongst themselves, like matter and anti-matter, and I keep waiting for them to implode.  In this case they "love" green energy and wind power, but they hate the fact that the windmill turbines apparently become the eqivalent of a Cuisinart for birds and chop the birds to bits.  Green energy = good  however chopped up birds = bad ...but green = good, dead birds = bad... what ever will we do?  So while I was waiting to testify on a bill dealing with on-line banking web site privacy policies (don't ask), I was staring out the window looking at the sunshine wishing I was on the bike rather than listening to the wind vs dead birtds crapola.  I started doodling on my pad some lines, and I'll admit I'm not much of a lyricist or poet, but this is what I came up to more or less sum up how I was feeling sitting there in that stuffy hearing room staring out at the sunshine this afternoon.

From the mountains to the ocean to this city of the shadows
Where I wander old and lonely, comes a call I understand.
In clear soft notes enthralling it is calling ever calling
‘Tis the spirit of the open road in wind blowing down.

For this grim small city daunts me, its wall of sorrow haunts me.
A nameless figure tossed amidst the human surf that beats.
Forever and forever in a frenzy of endeavor,
All along the cruel barriers of its never-ending streets.

So I’ll leave it in the morning, slip away without a warning,
Save a handclasp from the friend that knows the call that leads me on.
In the city’s clang and clatter, one old man the less won’t matter.
And no one here will say me nay nor care that I am gone.

By the foot of the Falls I’ll linger it charms to stay the singer
And from the bridge a painter’s dream of beauty there I’ll see.
But I’ll leave it all behind me when the purple evening shadows find me
Past the mountains of the Cascades to the wheat fields of the Pallouse.

But alas the dream is over I wake now to discover
The city’s rush the bustling crowd and the din on every hand.
But on my ear its softly falling I can hear the road a calling.
And I know that I’ll soon be riding to the far off hinterlands.
So after the hearing I went back to my office and promptly confirmed my reservations for the Sturgis bike rally in August and paid my deposit on the room.  It was personally more productive than the earlier part of the afternoon that's for sure.

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