The Tune of Youth

Down by the sea, the strand,

Marched the three, a piper band.

Rhythm strong, the notes low and high,

Bellows rocked the musical staff ay and bye.

The melody called out to the sky, the sea.

Gather the fishes to feast, let Poseidon be.

Local fishermen on the diamond sand

Remember the crabs’ wild dance on land.

Balanced vertical on one claw, pointed

The crabs’ free claw swung disjointed.

When sunlight departed and darkness fell

The piper band summoned waves to swell.

The sea mythically chained to the moon’s tug

Rose to the height of a clothesline pinned rug.

In repetition the three piper’s tune did lose

The strength of the new in its silent repose.

Then too, the rally of rebellion was ever lost

As Fenian sons on coffin ships the sea tossed.

Never forgotten the fresh, strange rapture of joy

Always beholden if the heart met a broken toy.

When youth and dreams are old, out of sight.

No piper tune vanishes the villager’s plight.

The baggy eyes become sad and swollen.

Still so when the far sea dawn is golden.