Timpani drums curl in a J
in the back of the room,
buffeted by the brass
and the woodwinds in rows.

The boys hold their mallets,
ready for their measures,
waiting, wishing their parts
were bigger, but eager
to make each note count,
to end with a flourish,
to drown out the rest.

Published in: on October 1, 2010 at 7:40 pm  Leave a Comment  
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