In her sylvan solace
Laurie, the lone piper
finds her path
silver moon
over blue spruce
her private light

music, her rally
to resilience, a
rosin on the oak floor
to a dancer

spirits unsunk
though salted
she carries her pains, perils,
and plaids, heavy on the winds

deep within
her childhood laughter lurks
hoping to be let out again
as the notes to be exhaled
are coaxed laments

she keeps long-lasting loyalty
to faithful friends

language tickles on her tongue
to link her to the lochs of old

the gillies on her Highland dancer's feet
forge pine and cedar groves
of the Ottawa Valley woods

there's no sign of the sad shadow subsiding
but sweeping further over

a heart once pierced stays
protective
shelled, by layers
unsheltered

pine cones break
if stepped on
recklessly

she still has her delights
arbours and trellises
harbours and poultices
healing of her homestead
whittles and wainscotting

bringing a cure
as from out
the Limmerick forest
she steps lightly
this lone piper

04/15/2009

Author's Note: in the rural areas of Spencerville, Ontario, they name certain types of forests Limmerick

Posted on 12/01/2003
Copyright © 2025 Maureen Glaude