As pipes catch the foxhunt and the whistle the blackbird, the bodhrán catches the sounds of country-life. A good bodhrán player plays like he's left the window open on life long ago.
Bodhrán.
Tick of spokes
Tap of bones
Swish of rushes
Slap of stones.
Needles flicking reel-rhythm,
Stitches mesmerized into
obedience.
Scythe in the grass,
Shovel in the clay,
Flail on the corn,
Pitchfork hay.
