Daughter of the Light- II. Muir Mhanainn Waltz

This is the second movement of my suite for flute choir, Daughter of the Light. My elemental inspiration for this movement was the ocean, which I think the poem expresses well, and the title Muir Mhanainn comes from the Scottish Gaelic name for the Irish Sea.

Muir Mhanainn Waltz

Muir Mhanainn Waltz

As years passed by, I heard the sound
Of rolling waves and foaming sea,
I wondered what could yet be found
On far off shores that called to me

I found a ship to take me there
Far across the widening world
To lands with crisp and dulcet air
Off beyond the ocean’s curl

With hands upon the great backstay
Of a vessel set for silver shores
I listened to the lapping waves
And wondered what I waited for

When leagues had passed in our wide wake,
I set my feet on city streets
I could not know what road to take
Or what new trials I would meet


I sank into the bustling sea
Of faces in the shining lights
Yet found the place that was to me
The only one that could be right

And months on, in the budding spring
As I was walking down a lane
I stumbled on a lowly thing
Playing his tunes out in the rain

He whistled what I’d never heard
Yet always seemed to know so well
And though it seemed to me absurd
I was enraptured and compelled

To ask the pauper boy his name
And sit there in the rain a while
Oh, never could I be the same
If I had passed that pauper by.

The years passed by from when we met
And married in a little church,
And worries caused me to forget
The sound of leaves in the silver birch

I could not see the growing light
Or glowing of the shifting sea
When dawn came at the end of night
To set my burdened spirit free

I could not taste the strawberries
Or smell the scent of fallen rain.
Only darkness I could see
And feel my scarring, searing pain.

Below a stormy, thundering sky
I left my home and wandered out
Into the darkness of the night
As deafening rain supplied my doubt

For days I wandered aimlessly
Until I could not wander more,
My legs would not keep holding me
They were too bloody, stiff and sore


I fell into a weary sleep
Out in the boundless, rolling hills
And dreamt that I had fallen deep
Into a misty, blackened dell

I could not see my way back home
Nor did I hear a single voice
And after wandering hours alone
I knew that I was left no choice

I turned my eyes up to the sky
And whispered tired, shaking words
As tears consumed my reddened eyes
And troubling calm was all I heard

A wind blew strong upon my face,
The whelming darkness fell away
I slipped into a different place
Into the dawning of the day

And in the light I heard my name
As it resounded through the trees
For led by some cherubic aim
My love at last had come for me

Daughter of the Light- I. Fómhar Jig

This is the first movement of my suite for flute choir, Daughter of the Light. All the movements have poems which tell the story of the movement. The poem is below, but on a more general level, the piece is about the autumn leaves floating and flittering through the wind.

Fómhar Jig

Fómhar Jig

I awoke to the rising dawn

As mist lay thick on the rolling hills

And the piper played his morning song

While birds flew trees they’d rested on

It was the village festival

And hunters brought their finest meats

While shepherds ambled to the hall

With daughters dressed in shades of fall

Outside the players played their tunes

While people came from all around

To spend a cheerful afternoon

Dancing under bright festoons

The kick and stomp of dancing feet

Rustled through the greenest grass

And reds and golds of autumn leaves

Formed my childhood memories

October Aubade

This is the first of four duets I'm writing. Like most things I write, the piece is inspired by an element of nature as well as a more complex concept. On the natural level, the piece was inspired by the rising dawn and how it begins slowly, then arrives quickly. On a more complex level, the piece is about two lovers leaving one another in the morning. An aubade is traditionally known as a morning song, and there is some sense that in renaissance times, it was something one might play for a lover after parting in the morning.

The last few seconds of the piece are intended to represent the moment when two lovers' hands come apart as they leave each other in the morning.

The recording features myself and Sarah Umezono performing.

October Aubade