This is where I live and breathe.
Where I flourish,
Where I am inspired,
Where I thrive.
This is where I feel the life rush into me.
The music flows,
The crowd cheers
The magic happens.
This is where it all comes together.

The Drum Major calls us to set;
We snap to attention.
The announcer calls to us,
“Drum Major, is the band ready?”
The pit is set up, and the band is in position.
The Drum Majors salute.
We are off.

We roll our feet,
We hit our spots,
And the Guard catches their tosses.
We stay in step,
We stay in tempo,
If the Pit listens back to the drumline.
We watch the Drum Major,
We dress our lines,
And the Band performs the visuals.

The show is over, and we exit the field;
It is too early to celebrate.
Our performance was good.
Maybe,
Maybe it was even great.
But were we good enough to win?
There are four more hours until awards.

Time passes
slowly ,

Like
a
tortoise.
Slowly,
It haunts us.
Slowly,
It tortures us.
And then the wait is over;
We march back onto the field,
With all eleven section leaders.
We are
“That band”.
Anxiously we wait
To hear the announcer call us,
“Ridge High School”.

As we wait,
Anxiety turns to excitement;
We have done well.
Fingers crossed,
We hold our breath.

In First Place…
“Ridge High School!”