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Band Practice at the Park, a poem by Samuel Franklin

Band Practice at the Park

The pipers droned to a stop 

and I rolled my drum to silence

when the rain came blustering  

over the treeline like a swarm 

of electric wasps jittering madly 

against the shelter’s tin roof

so overwhelming a piper struck up 

a tune again but the pipe’s sound 

was drowned in the howl around us

ancient sound eating ancient sound  

until suddenly the storm whimpered away 

in a second’s span it turned to drizzle 

and then dried as the sun cut clouds 

around the horizon and then 

a rainbow arced up and doubled 

not just across the sky but from 

the cornpatch across the lot 

like an otherworldly waterfall crashing 

quietly among Indiana’s greenness

the colors rushing from and falling into 

the glistening golden ears of corn. 

Samuel Franklin is the author of two books of poetry: Bright Soil, Dark Sun (2019) and The God of Happiness (2016). He resides in Bloomington, Indiana, where he enjoys making useful things out of wood scraps and losing staring contests to his cats. He can be found at