Men in plaid, skirted
and flirting with machismo
where’er they go they blow.
The sound sweet as chocolate
filling the air; making the hair
on my arms to stand and salute.
The intonation is a sensation
that any Scot would devour.
It is our theme, the soundtrack
that brings us back to the sod.
My God, it fills the air with flair,
whene’er the cauld pipe reels play there.
My darling daughter you stir me,
with love and pride inside.
Your were born to change lives;
grow in your beauty, be a good wife
or partner, your heart is unbound
and had found its place within
my very own. Nothing small about
the feats you will perform. I am warmed
by your brilliant glow. And I know you can be
all that you aspire to as you step assuredly.
But, don’t be in a bloody hurry to leave just yet!
You are three hours old and we’ve only just met!
I’ve tapped the feelings I had on the day Kairn was brought into this world. She graduates from University and I couldn’t be any more inspired by her intelligence and beauty.
We march to our own beat,
the sweet syncopation that drives
every step; adept at keeping your feet
when others about you are losing their heads.
The pipes blare and wail; a tale told in the hold
of a celtic clutch and in as much, deeply.
The snap of snare is crisp and a wisp of generations
lives within it. You didn’t begin it, but carry
the torch of your clan and your kin.
Your pace is halting but sure,
and you’re raising your banner high,
a sky full of past and an earth full of futures
converge in the present to give the gift
that life possesses. A different drum;
a heart in living rythym.
Yon bonnie banks heal my hardened heart,
as wistful wonder brings me back to my home.
Having had traveled to places,
familiar faces serve to soothe my soul.
It takes its toll. This grand goal
really refreshes a world wide fool.
Spirits soar when the Highland hills call.