Essay On Drums
ESSAY ON DRUMS
The drum sounds slowly its cadence
the beat, beat, beat marks a march
and through the air reverberates.
The tramp of a company at quick time,
arms pumping with machine precision,
a rigid jerky movement of elbows.
The thump of rotating Huey blades
as they back stroke the air;
gingerly alighting on a hot LZ.
The staccato stutter of rifle fire
indiscriminately searching the earth
laughingly playing hard games of tag.
The grieving hearts at graveside
waiting the echoing bugle call
while the flag is ritually folded.
Sound slowly this cadence
for the eons of history
the drums of war reverberate.
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