The rain pours down Gray sky, full Spilling over, Unrelenting. Pulling smiles down, Creasing brows, Furrowing attitudes. As the waters rise Outside, The tempers rise Within. We jump up, From a dining room table, Worn and marked, With ink and conversation, Yogurt stains and revelations, Piled with books On math, history, And even poetry. Alexa, play [dance music Appropriate for kids] And we sway, Spin and whirl. In the kitchen, On a Tuesday. Empty paper towel roll Clutched in hand, Pointing toward a new day. That cardboard baton A beacon, Keeping beat For the young drumline, With drumming feet. Growing limbs, Cutting an awkward rug, We tread a measure, Free of judgement. Step the vibrations, Shake a leg. Improvisation Guiding us into laughter. We soar with the resonance, Billowing above the frowns, Like loblolly pines, Bending with the wind, So we don’t break. Rhythmically gliding on waves, Instead of sinking In the gray Of a rainy day. When I remember, These days of my life, I will cherish The thrum Of rain on the windows, As I lead an ensemble, Through the kitchen, This Homeschool Marching Band. Holding tiny hands, Guiding this sweet procession, Into a moment Of jubilant Joyful noise. --AW