Marching Band Practice

October 7, 2008
By Katie Woods, Pleasant Hill, IA

A silent morning,
Suddenly interrupted by the firing of canons.
Swift feet sneaking,
Down a hard, pale path.
Sneakers covered in morning tears,
Slide along green waves.
An orange-juice glow,
Trickling through thick, barren branches.
Winter air,
Dances around steaming bodies.
Long shadows stretch,
Reaching for perfection in the daybreak chill.
Music floats,
Aloof like soaring eagles on a canvas.
Pictures come to life,
Like memories,
Bringing up deep emotions,
As they play in the quiet knolls of the mind.
Then silence returns to the green sea.
The drums fade into a distant heartbeat,
Swelling and mixing,
Into the slowly warming breath of a new day.

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