Somewhere, tonight
a bagpiper is playing.,
Notes from the drone
and chanters lick the sky,
piercing passing clouds,
embedding themselves in the stars.
Somewhere else
a flute player fingers the stops
as notes pour forth
and dance on the moonlit lawn.
Neither piper nor flautist
hear each other,
but I weave both
into a song, my pulse
carries its rhythm,
and the song will
carry my dreams
until morning.