Sometime in early summer,
Listen for sticks on drumheads
Stretched and waiting for cadences
Spread to young ears, echoed in feet
On soft asphalted stickiness.
Promises of glory born from sweat,
Falls, drops, constant beat and heat
That tans, burns to thin the corps
Into sameness of note, eye and foot.
Only a mother can detect her own.
Summer melts away as dreams of
Dates, swims, movies and time off is
Shelved for the greater cause of glory