Motor Lodge Shangri-La

A sunny day to begin with
Then dark clouds rushed in from the south
Thunder, bright flashes of summer lightning
Torrential rain pounding upon our one window
The four of us a bit too high, but not that dry
Having sought shelter from the elements again
Inside a double occupancy room at the Afton Inn
Liquor flowed and in the pipe smoldered Panama Red

A rainy evening to begin with
Tapering off at dusk when the fog arrived
Door open, seeing nothing within this cloud
Mountain top merriment, far away from it all
Hiking, camping and our usual highland tramping
Could well wait until tomorrow morning's sunrise
Tonight we reveled and caught up with the altitude
Four of us merry adventurers bivouacking comfortably

The local spirits seemed at peace
As we ventured out onto the concrete walkway
Our short term cabin fever cooled by the damp air
Gazing out, but all around me is obscured by fog
Parking lot, cars and the surrounding wooded hills
Echoing the many shrill chirping and trilling night songs
Laughter and music, several doors down from our room
Other refugees from the Blue Ridge's unpredictable weather

I can still remember that evening
A good earthy smell and barely visible hotel lights
Motor lodge Shangri-La, it's glowing sign like a beacon
Seen from Interstate 64, but not upon such foggy nights
We were fortunate having a good excuse for dropping by
Young adventurers aloof, thirty six or so Virginia summers ago
Traveling up through sunshine and rain from the coastal plain
Well provisioned, pleasantly elated and quite blissfully optimistic

As if from the forgotten mists of time
With our panjandrum swagger we entered the lounge
Tipping my stetson at two provocatively clad waitresses
Meeting the sneering glares of the posturing local bucks
Their stomping ground, but we could well handle ourselves
My crazy cousin Charlie and good comrades Denny and Bear
All veterans of a good many a wild swinging barroom brawls
However on that foggy evening, we were happy to hunt birds