Bagpipes

Haunting sound of bagpipes played across the dial
I glanced across the pastures
green across the isle.

Elsewhere ‘cross the stony walls sheep in woolen coat
were grazing ‘cross the pastures
I smiled.

One day I’d wrote
about these very pastures, these fields, these rocky shores,
where little towns remained the same.

I told you years before
I’d make this trip some summer day, wind rose at my back.
I’d grasp a piece of luggage last week,

and as I packed
I thought I heard the crashing waves, thought I saw the spray
of ocean rising o’er the rock

while bagpipes fade away.