In Memory of Tommy

On the one year anniversary of his death, this poem:

An Fear Draíochta

For Tommy Peoples, Donegal-born Irish fiddler (1948-2018)

  

He tucks his fiddle under his chin,

then brings the bow.

From the first notes

there’s a shock of naked sound,

music released from blood

and breath – silver flash of a

trout wrenched from a lake,

streaming bright water.

Tommy’s fixed gaze rests on

the fiddle’s neck while his

fingers press and release. He

sits very still, the wildness

in him moving only the bow.

Weeping, cajoling, a bird flutters

from branch to branch, trilling from

a tree’s highest limbs. Pause, then

a refrain erupts from deep in 

recesses of blossom and leaf.

At dusk, from shadowed hedges

drifts a last homing chant.

Where are you?

Where are you?

            Enchantment tiptoes among us

            as we listen, as morning fog

            creeps inland from the sea

            to cross stone and grass.

            Salt-laden, story-laden, it

            joins the grazing cattle, mingles

            with the steam of their hides.

           

Portrait of Tommy by Martin Fox of Asheville, NC

Cliffs of Moher Photo by Mark de Jong on Unsplash

Poem copyright Cathy Larson Sky  (August 4, 2019)