I was just walking, see.

       Homecoming

This year, it began with cacaphony.
The trumpets stood on the steps,
While the stranger brass, horns and trombones
Played around the corner under an overhang .
The flutes sat underneath an awning,
Drowned by the trumpets.
But even when the air was clear,
They were silent almost before I walked past.

The trumpets rang down the long green mall,
Taking no prisoners and giving no quarter,
But the bugles, under arching trees,
Played with the trumpets --
at a different tempo, and possibly a different tune.

And yes, there was a student sleeping under a tree
While it continued to drizzle.