Click click click
A wand demands our ears
Waves instruction to begin our warming up
Shining brass
Sit erectly on the chairs
Slurring partials to refine their lips to hear
And seeing feels
as the wand designs a pulse
Echoes through us and makes metronomes of feet
While fingers think
Act alone and comprehend
the notes that pass through glances at a line
A curved release
A multitude exhales
While their sense reassign their normal chores.
Sr. Poetry (WN #22) (Ed. note: I miss band. This one is my favorite.)
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