the bagpipe on the hill

 so here we are beneath the pallid ray

of summer noontime seeking to escape

for just one moment from the normal shape

of discreet instance so that we might play

a different sort of role where one could say

the angry words to those with mouth agape

that tell apart the angel from the ape

but those are for another cooler day

instead we look to work a better will

in places where the choice is not so bright

as underneath the growing midday roar

of silver needles passing by the hill

each flashing clearly in the brilliant light

so bidding us to join with them and soar