Walking through the meadow I heard
a distant familiar sound no bird no bark no human.
I stopped to listen. Could it be? Out here? Bagpipes?
Indeed. Following the drone I found a lone bagpiper
who quit when I arrived packed up ignored my shy applause.
No kilt, no delightfully odd look, decidedly unlike that
strolling tuba player who once captured my imagination
blowing old standards: Button Up Your Overcoat
Good Night Irene, Moon River, Over the Rainbow.
Oh I could have fallen right in love with that tuba player!
Chose instead to write him into a little something
of a love story, charming whimsical and spare
leaving my romantic notions perfectly intact.