UNDER A YELLOW SKY
‘Magic Glue’ by Zoolon
I made quick pen and paper notes while I was in Belgium, hoping I could read back what I wrote. My handwriting is useless. The photo above I took from ground level in a wild garden in a town called Braine Le Chateau. Here’s a few of the random words I wrote down, unedited, just as they arrived in my head. I’m a songwriter, I’ve never claimed to be a poet or a regular writer.
The sky isn’t angry, it’s in love with itself. A new arrival. Humidity. Air so sticky. A fat bellied storm full of whiskers, waves and wonders.
Sunshine clouds and blue skies mating. Sweating. Together they don’t care who’s watching.
Old man’s beard on flint. Bonfire sparks morph into angry bolts, split trees in two, get pissed off with rubber soled shoes spoiling the show. Blinding light wants to be blind darkness. Then it blinks. Eyes shut easy. Succeeds, then vanishes. Safety. What they call blue still looks yellow to me.
In a hollowed out trunk of a dying willow tree the blue tits go feed from an unwritten menu of titchy insects. The dragonflies leave all well alone aside from other dragonflies. Territorial dogfights. Winner takes all.
Baby black moorhens paddle in the reeds in hidden corners of the lake. Safe? No water rats. A heron glides above. Doesn’t need binoculars. Just checking things out. For now.
Sound Art is a choir of multicultural birds jamming. They make it up as they go along. Sing whatever they fancy on the day. Best free dawn to dusk gig in town.
The forest of pine silhouettes blankets dead earth in nowhere land. I’m not lost, but feel lost there. The garden has its own secret history. Tries to share with me, but we’re on different wavelengths. There’s something dark about the decades empty stables. No idea why.
Mushrooms and magic until they come to mow the grass. A crime against something? Buttercups, most likely. Maybe daisies, but I don’t think they’re that bothered.
Outside the big black gates a two way lane no wider than an obese human. No place for a fast getaway. Not safe to put your foot down.
I saw my first eagle today.
In the big garden of that place I felt like it knew the meaning of magic. I wonder if I’ll ever get a lyric out of that.
For some unaccountable, maybe easily understood thinking about it, reason, the garden reminded me of a lyric from my song on the Dream Rescuer album, ‘Rexie Believes in Magic’. Time for a reprise. I hope you like it;
Lastly, the magical Aurora from Norway and her take on Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars’.
Apart from the Bowie number, Copyright ©2017 Zoolon Audio. All rights reserved. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.