When the Chieftains Bring a Tune Around

There's a light on the stage
     And the players
Have taken up their instruments—

Feel the drone of the uilleann pipes
     Resonate inside your ribcage;
Savour the whitecap wake
     Frothed up by the wooden flute;
Pace yourself
     To the prancing of the bodhrán.

Fly with the fiddles on a breakneck flight
     Or glide from side to side;
Recall in all its urgency
     The heart wound the harp brings back;
Taste the ancient days of wandering
     Along a tin whistle path;
Join hands in re-creating
     A tapestry of singing trees
     And seasons without end.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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