SpinningSwirlLove

The fiddle,

It brings that sweet nurtured drawl,

That rises from your throat,

And the acoustic bass,

Pulls and releases your hips to sway,

And the words,

Of your great-great-grandfather,

Cause your heart and mind to agree,

And to forget everything else in that unison,

In that spinning faded purple skirt,

Please Divine stay the tides of war,

Lest they find way into these hills,

And may the cider stay crisp and smart,

Off quiet, mindful tongues,

Mouthes with age to their shape and sound,

And may the women always dance like they do today,

While boots and bare feet tap along.

Delilah you were a hurricane blew into town that only I wanted to stay.