*****
On my way home today
I passed a marching band
Rehearsing in a field
I was in a marching band —
It was, to say the least,
An informative experience:
Contrary to appearances from the stands,
Down there on the field, the individual
Musician can neither hear nor see
Those lovely trim pinwheels
Look exactly the same, to them,
As do plain parade formations:
One uniform on one side
One on the other
And another just like it in the front
Period.
They keep those lines straight
By making every single step exactly
Seventeen and a half inches long
Try that
Sometime
Then try it while playing
A freezing intrument with sweaty fingers
From memory
Don’t take your timing
From the rest of the band, either —
That would be a mistake
Because the sounds from the other
End of that long line are reaching you
Almost a full second late…
Watching your conductor is
Problematic when he’s behind you
And there are seventeen others in between
Unbeknownst to all,
Even most of the students themselves:
It is an advanced exercise
In
Zen
*****
The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts
