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Honeyrun Farm produces pure raw, honey, handcrafted soap, and beeswax candles in Williamsport, Ohio

Blog

If my words did glow

Jayne Barnes

-Posted by Isaac

Long live the late Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter.

(Would you hear my voice come through the music)

We lost him this week. But his words live on.

(Would you hold it near as it were your own?)

To honor Mr. Hunter, I’ve been on a Dead kick since Tuesday and it’s put me in sort of an easy, free mood.

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I’m feeling young. I look around, I close my eyes and listen. The very air pulses with music. Life softens.

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I can lose the niggling climate thoughts, the exasperating political B.S. of the moment. Five minutes of NPR this morning told me we’re deep into another scandal. Will they impeach him? (I don't know, don't really care.)

It’s all washed away.

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The days have shortened, turned smooth and golden. The nights, still and starlit. I feel so tranquil. This is even without drugs, mind you.

The music of bees, the sunshine itself is a drug. Sometimes I pull into a bee yard, shut off the truck, and just listen.

(  Let there be songs to fill the air  )

(Let there be songs to fill the air)

My friends are true and steady. I check in everyday. They tell me the good news.

(Let it be known there is a fountain)

(  That was not made by the hands of men  )

(That was not made by the hands of men)

What did I do to deserve this? This bee life?

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Nothing.

Nothing, I think. Well, it’s complicated… I got lucky.

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(Reach out your hand if your cup be empty)

Luck with direction maybe?

(If your cup is full, may it be again)

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Somehow, some way I hit the lottery.

The big roulette wheel went spinning, red and black flying by… all the years, jobs, places and relationships… somehow my marble landed on green. And not only that, as it turns out, green was what I bet on!

Of the infinite paths, somehow I landed here. In this place, at this time, doing this work, sharing it all with these people. What are the chances?

(There is a road, no simple highway)

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How did it happen?

It only came one day at a time. One decision at a time. You’d think I could piece it all back together. But when I try, I lose myself in the music.

(If I knew the way I would take you home)