From A Misty Glen Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

The Scotsman’s bagpipes have a voice of pride
The wailing wind captured within a bag of sheepskin
Sings with emotion from a soul of unparalleled tradition
Joined by the cadence of drums or on occasion… violins

A veiled heart is transported over the greenest rolling hills
Experiencing awe… awakened by the trills of golden days
A dance of merriment is revealed with the whirling of a reel…
Advancing steps of kilted plaid are stirred …as the piper plays

6/8/08