In fields of light above this realm
Where sight and sound are one
I chanced upon a little elm
A woman sat upon

From far afar I sharp’d my eyes
To peer good at this sight
And soon came I to see thread-ties
‘Tween her and the High Light

She sat so still, she did not stir
Or so it seemed to me
‘Til I was no more far, but near
And then began to see

Than in her hand she held a flute
The longest yet I’ve seen
Which stretched gently until its root
Her small lips was between

And she it was who through her sounds
Was forming all these fields
Of beauteous light where joy abounds
And my heart rapture yields

These fields of light I long have passed
Yet never will forget
That those blessed hills, meads, groves were massed
But through that simple set

Of flute and woman weaving music
Healing broken hearts
And forming fields of light of scenic
Beauty for these parts.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.