The young man I wrote this for went on to win the young fiddlers' competition in Ireland.
Young fiddler
With tunes in his head
And fingers like a spider
Weaving songs;
His bow spinning
Webs of music
For my reeling toes
To jig in
Music's breeze.
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
a wonderful melody you play with your musical words :)
"...fingers like a spider
weaving songs..." <-----------sheer brilliance
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)