Aisling Beautiful girl with a broken harp who plays on the side of the street through wind and rain, her open case catching coins that flicker as leaves on a lake. Her plaintive notes which float like pleas then flee into a whooshing diaspora of rush- hour traffic as she plinks and plucks more hay-wire chords that shudder down the roads and spines of passers-by … Continue reading ‘Aisling’ by Adam Wyeth