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.
[Each Sunday at ProfPost, Liz Tilton offers readers a poem broadly related to teaching and learning. We depend on our readers to bring these poems to our attention...so, please remember that you can always suggest a poem, submit a guest post, raise a topic you'd like to see us address on ProfPost, or ask us questions via email:firstname.lastname@example.org]