What a thrill it was when that “Shizuoka Duo” I’m sometimes writing about called me up and asked me if I’d like to wander around with them a bit—and, in their words, “look at some things.”

While we were out and about, what I first noticed about them was that whenever we’d hop off our bicycles to take a look at grains of rice, or flowers, or Ryuso Mountain, or the sky, or whatever, well, that’s when they each seemed most able to tell the other what was on his or her mind.

Here’s the conversation they had—in front of these colorful guys—the one that zapped them into songwriting mode.

“You know, I think I’m always  trying to tell you a lot of stuff you can’t possibly understand.”

“Oh?”

(It was almost as I weren’t even there. Or maybe, as if, I was just a natural part of the setting—as threatening as an ear of rice, one leaning over in a comfortable arc.)

“Yeah, and I appreciate it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever much helped.”

“But you have. You listen. You always listen. You listen so . . . You listen so true.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“That’s nice of you to do.”

Then, every time, we stopped and looked at something—usually flowers—they just started singing. I’d never experienced anything like it. I was amazed. I don’t know how they did it. The words just popped out from their mouths—in lines of song. And by the third or fourth clump of flowers, they had a melody. Myself, I’ve got no ear at all, and no understanding of music, but soon they were repeating, “A Gbm A Gbm A Gbm G A” over and over–and strumming their thighs as if they were guitars—and they seemed to hear it just fine.

Some of their song lines only popped out once—at least as far as I remember—but some of them those guys sang over and over and over. I figured that was what would probably end up as the chorus of whatever it was they were creating.

It might have been my imagination, but they seemed especially smitten with the spider lilies—they stopped at every clump we came across—and their singing would become so energetic, I felt that they could hear the spider lilies singing, and were just singing along.

Well, it was an extraordinary day. Thank you, Shizuoka Duo! (That’s not their real name. They have no name, oddly enough. They just sing.)

Here’s the words I heard them sing repeatedly. The last two lines they sang over and over and over and over and over again. (I admit that I too, albeit very quietly, began singing along.)

You’ve got all those feelings / Trapped inside of you

Now they’ve got you reeling / You don’t know what to do

Me, I’m not so clever / I ain’t no magic man

But I will endeavor / To do the best I can.

If you want to be with me—I’ll be there for you.

If you’d like to share with me—I will listen true.