Van Morrison

Todays Daily Prompt was too good to ignore. Instantly, I POOF... was transported to the other day, when I wrote that poem. This song takes me back to those years at the lake. When I hear that song, from one of Tim's favourite singers, I am always moved. Mentally I am back, by a campfire, comfortably situated, with cozy pillows, in lawn chairs. Crackling fire at our feet, and the Newfie Neighbour on the deck next door playing his squeeze box. On the aire, the strains of "Girl with the black velvet band", or "When Irish Eyes are Smilin'". Yet this song, this song is none of those. This song, by VAN MORRISON, is Into The Mystic. Every single time I hear it, the same scenes come to mind, the smile breaks out, and a tear glides down one cheek. Happy tears, joyful tears, tears now of peace and thankfulness. As the old cliché goes, "better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all". On this night, after most of the neighbours have gone to bed, and there is a mere handful left, the moon breaks out from the thick cedars. As it lights up the lake, there is this magical moment, when the glint hits, and way in the distance you begin to hear the coyote howls. Tis magic, truly, truly magic. Out of all the places Tim had ever been, it twas in that spot, right that night, that he was finally free. IMG_0316-001We were born before the wind Also younger than the sun Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic Hark, now hear the sailors cry Smell the sea and feel the sky Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home And when the fog horn blows I want to hear it I don't have to fear it And I want to rock your gypsy soul Just like way back in the days of old And magnificently we will flow into the mystic When that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home And when that fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it I don't have to fear it And I want to rock your gypsy soul Just like way back in the days of old And together we will flow into the mystic Come on girl... Too late to stop now... ... AND SO I WRITE. Irish Lake, One Night