H. Tzou's "Marching" is beautifully written and captures everything about a marching band experience.  As a trumpet player and Field Commander in my high school band, I can relate to this article very well.  The first paragraph about all of the vibrant colors in the sky takes me back to the Friday nights, which were always so highly anticipated, and the part where it says "my hands are at home, fitted in between the angles of the trumpet, and my mouth is firm and ready" allows me to feel the cold security of my instrument and the feelings of acceptance within the band. Tzou does a wonderful job at provoking responses of sentiment, and she does something quite excellent with her words, using diction to create cold imagery when she says "the chill is biting, seething, roaring."