Having played th’ piper’s tune as best so you
would recognise - tho lest you’d misconstrue
whose hand caressed th’ chanter holes - and
yet applause ensued - it was as if they knew I
blew in air, squeezed the bag with steadiness
and let imagination make their melody divest
itself o’ subterfuge; in truth its but a fugue we
learned responses to as younger ears - cued
by repartee to hear the next unweave itself in
tunefulness and harmony - then dress us into
whom we want to be; I’d see my role is freed
deceit by simply being there and hearing ‘em
agree - we’re whom we are because release
in-tune enshrines us with congruity the roles
we played persuade our runes remembering
© 23 May 2018, I. D. Carswell
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