On Day 625 of the daily poems our poet Jane Monach writes us a brief musical note, and if you’re wondering from where the pure sound of that flute is flowing, the clue is in the place names. We are of course in beautiful Northern Ireland.
a note
pure sound of flute
flows out into the world
disappears
perhaps into the Mournes
above tall trees
in Tollymore
or down to Murlough
flies with white egrets
and is lost in clouds
above Dundrum
Jane Monach