move to the music

a whistle blew & a gruff voice barked, ¡get in your lines!. that voice was the coach, cleft.

the notes suddenly looked up, their ponytails bobbing, & then they all scrambled toward the field, feeling the cold wintry frost still clinging to the turf on this early dim dawn. then they stopped & stood in zigzagging formations & looked @ the coach expectantly. the cleft walked up to the field themselves with a wand held ’bove its head.

all right, I want you to start moving, 1, 2… 1, 2….

& so the notes began doing just that, marching down the field, 1 step after the other in sync, keeping their zigzag formation & staying within their lines, melodic tones rising from the ground with each step.


song, organization, physics