“The High School Band”
by Reed Whittemore
On warm days in September the high school band
Is up with the birds and marches along our street,
To a field where it goes boom boom until eight forty-five
When it marches, as in the old rhyme, back, boom boom,
To its study halls, leaving our street
Empty except for the leaves that descend, to no drum,
And lie still.
A great many high school bands beat a great many drums,
And the silences after their partings are very deep.
In 100 Plus American Poems, edited by Paul Molloy