Celtic(Gaelic) music

The sounds of a home I've never made mine,

My ancestors calling from within the melody.

Oaks and yews the size of skyscrapers,

Here we live with the earth,

Honoring natures giving spirit and all that is mysterious about her.

The smell of green rolling hills, Planes of the softest grass under my feet, cold breeze through my hair.

Here summer and winter embrace.

You beckon me back to where I belong.