I'll Take The Glen Road

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. - Thoreau

as dancing, reverberating strings strummed and hummed

a piccolo played pickled

fiddlers fiddled

someone squeezed a box

a drummer kept fastidious tempo

according to an accordian player's interoffice memo

step dancers stepped

with such a lively, upbeat skill

together they did a jig

giving the night a well-healed, celtic thrill

double-daring everyone within hearing distance to try and keep their heads and feet still

for no other apparent reason than that

it was their joyous, immutable, collective, living will

everoyne was ecstatic

the precision mathematic and quadratic

flow hydrostatic

effects stigmatic

calling everyone up from despair's cellar and down from sadness' cobwebbed attic

lo

to take

the glen road to carrick 

Author's Note

“What is there in music that it should so stir our deeps? We are all ordinarily in a state of desperation; such is our life; ofttimes it drives us to suicide. To how many, perhaps to most, life is barely tolerable, and if it were not for the fear of death or of dying, what a multitude would immediately commit suicide! But let us hear a strain of music, we are at once advertised of a life which no man had told us of, which no preacher preaches. Suppose I try to describe faithfully the prospect which a strain of music exhibits to me. The field of my life becomes a boundless plain, glorious to tread, with no death nor disappointment at the end of it. All meanness and trivialness disappear. I become adequate to any deed. No particulars survive this expansion; persons do not survive it. In the light of this strain there is no thou nor I. We are actually lifted above ourselves.” - Thoreau