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Highland Pipes ©

Nat Hall
Sandwick, Shetland
2004

Kinetic vibes
blown by all lips,
they sing
your tears, a
thousand hopes -
sorrow and joy,
Mother Scotland.
They're
echoing deep
in my soul.

Phosphorous vibes
high in our
nights,
each note finds
grip on your
wild dress - like
silver clefs
in winter sky.
I see them shine
on mauve heather -
in every glen.

Forever vibes
sticking to
time,
like sellotape
keeps
together
past and present,
our own future.

To each heartbeat,
Mother Scotland,
I imagine a
lone piper -
thistle in hand,
reaching your eyes;
his every tune
played on
white sand...
to hearts so pure,
free,
and so wise.


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