What is this great song
That has my soul a singing
Floppy at the intro
Raspy in the chorus
Strumming as pure rhythm
Nodding and a bobbing
Groove and shape me loving
Letter to a great song.
When I bed my wary down
An anticipated rest at night
Whilst stars still not yet hung
A song plays in a key so high
So high I must quieten to enjoy
First the symphony comes
From the right of me
A solo of hesitation
Then echoing the chorus rings in:
“All of life, all of life, all of life!”
Off into the distant copse
A clear and bright bird stands up tall,
Two so close
Now chattering from all around!
Carrying me off on a journey
Into a night so deep
To surely dream
Of more sweetly
I have got angels.
They dance around naked with long blonde locks
And sing amongst each other banging a drum.
Whenever I stand up to join the chorus
They stop and they wonder and stare at me lost;
It’s not a ‘what the hell is he doing’ stare,
But a ‘caught in the crossfire of beauty’ look.
They tell me my voice is why they stay
Dancing around here, naked as they play.
I have no reason to not believe my angels
For when I am lonely, they are my commitment.
They are what brushes past my face after tears flow,
They are what flickers in my early morning eyes,
They are the cinnamon spicing my sauce,
They are what smooths my sleepy brow out.
My angels cannot do me wrong.
No matter what song perches about their supple lips,
Their fingers dance nimbly through the air.
When they dream of things I cannot yet see,
Their drum echoes through my heart
And I imagine that I can indeed see their spells,
– Woven upon me so tight –
And I hear even in daylight they’re not far away.
When I begin dancing, when I share their dream,
I know I have got angels, and they have got me.
The bird awakes as the dew is still fresh
Clinging to the little hairs that sense danger
Shaken at once to ensure all is still alright
Wouldn’t that be something
To set oneself into flight upon a new day
And find out too late about failures
All along the country side
The other little birds also wake
Repeating the same ritual from evenings slumber
Through the valleys it is heard
Such music that only nature can create
Like splashes deep within the forest
The birds morning is always in chorus
Perhaps the other wild animals
Rely upon the bird for mornings glory
Perhaps they also revel in the song