Sunday, 23 August 2015

The Irish Celli

The Irish Celli 

The lilting musical accents from the Irish Celli

Floated over the breeze, across the field

Between the trees and through my window

To insinuate themselves upon my ears

A lulling sound of musical voices

Telling tales of their youth

And of times before real history

The laughs, the tears, the craic

All flowed together like the grape and rye and food consumed

There were fond farewells to friends and family lost

And new friends and family made by dusk

The rhythmic converse was like

The murmurings of the faerie kind

Just out of reach for the words to actually be heard

Light giggles, deep belly laughs, dancing joyfully

And as the creamy silent moon went down,

The voices became that of church attendees

More solemn and quiet - lost on the air,

People gradually dispersing like seeds on the wind

As the Sun came up, a glistening yoke-yellow

Nothing could be seen of the night revellers

No glass. Or plate. Or chair to be seen

And I’m beginning to think – was it a dream?

© Kate McClelland 2015

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