An' though the course may change sometimes
Rivers always reach the sea
While writing today, I've been rocking my way through all my Led Zeppelin albums, in order. I'm currently up to Physical Graffiti, and have just discovered that I don't have the sound system, '69 Nova, or long hair needed to really do this album justice, and wailing on my desk like it's a drum kit really freaks out my dogs
On the wings of maybe, down in birds of prey
The sun is setting through my office window, throwing long shadows and golden light across my yard and into my house. The sky begins to darken behind a hazy gauze of clouds on the edge of a storm the weather man says will arrive Monday. My sinuses say it is likely to arrive sooner.
But as the eagle leaves the nest, it's got so far to go
Ten Years Gone is the perfect music for this precise, bittersweet, slightly melancholy moment, just before the unseasonable warmth of the day gives way to the chill of February night. I know that, before I even finish composing this post, the sun will drop behind the big tree outside and I'll have to close up the windows and pull on a sweatshirt. But for now … just for now … I can pretend that it's the end of a summer day, I'm 10 years younger than I am, and I haven't a care in the world.
Ten years gone, holdin' on, ten years gone
