Posted on

Cèilidh for Angus

To a canticle of wind and juncos, squalls trip across a sullen ocean an errant curtain hop- scotches across the sill of an open window. I want no somber dirge, no plodding funeral song. Instead, the screaming banshee of a wicked fiddler, of more hair than voice, of ear and aura, of other- worldly and […]
Subscribe now to read the Wild Musette Journal free online, or via book or ebook. Already a subscriber? Log in.