ceilidh the hangar door's open - and the rain just stopped. a cool wind brings the smell of the field - and a dark sun is colouring clouds. the radio is playing maritime music - familiar celtic rhythms. the pleasant sound of singing - takes away aloneness. this plane must fly tomorrow - so we work. but music wings tonight across the land - as unknown friends sing. we are people without names - a gathering without a parlour. we are a listening community - whose celidh is country.