Honeydew and I are attending the North American Beekeeping Conference this week, in Galveston, Texas. Thanks for warehome/dog sitting, Brother Dear! And happy birthday.
At any rate, as I’ve swept and mopped and poured candles and packed up honey and swept and mopped and cooked and washed and dried and swept and mopped over the last six weeks of holidays, Galveston has been on my mind.
And when I woke up this morning to the foreign sounds of birds twittering through the humidity, and the foreign scent of decay and growth, every moment I spent daydreaming about Galveston coalesced.
And then I ate a breakfast of luscious crab cakes benedict and the best slice of coconut cream pie I’ve had outside my grandma Betty’s kitchen. And now I’m going for a walk on the beach, still humming Galveston:
Galveston, oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowin’
I still see her dark eyes glowin’
She was 21 when I left Galveston
Galveston, oh Galveston, I still hear your sea waves crashing
While I watch the cannons flashing
I clean my gun and dream of Galveston
I still see her standing by the water
Standing there lookin’ out to sea
And is she waiting there for me?
On the beach where we used to run
Galveston, oh Galveston, I am so afraid of dying
Before I dry the tears she’s crying
Before I watch your sea birds flying in the sun
At Galveston, at Galveston
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