Flying Over Arlington

out the window front of the wing
our soldiers have no rank
no cross or star or pentacle
no separate identity

drum and bugle corps
uniformity fashions
one synchronized
anonymous pattern

precision performance

the song they play never ends
rat-a-tat-tat of the snares
ticking time to the whump of the bass
brass blasting their cry
sun brilliant on bells

endless practice
perfecting their steps
expanding the band
the breadth of design

lively stepping
lines pivot and merge
never tripping
or bumping

or falling

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