Green by Paul Cheneour / Richard Bundy

Green
Two masters listen intently to each other in pure delight. Their music demands your attention from the shear sensitivity of their interaction. Dark steel sea bends, rests. The voice of change. Within silence sound has a home, lifting upon spume, under wing of gull and cormorant, flight. And then falls as flutes, a velvet hammer. Sculpting the birth of time, painting the space, moving heart and whispering spells. Nets cast to catch the wayward dawn, to hold for a moment the wild and vicious day. And what remains upon a stained sky? What residue is hung Jewel-like upon check and lash? The colour green reminds me of the gods that left. Now, let us call them hither.

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