Photograph by Mansi Tripathi

The Drums
Daniel Szabo
The valley sits, oh so peaceful,
Filled with the whispers of trees,
Ignited by the cacophony of colorful leaves,
Teeming with the songs of birds.
Within its heart a village lies,
Encompassed by wondrous wooden huts,
Harmonious with everything around,
Like the final piece of a puzzle. 
Da‐dum, da‐dum, da‐dum
Come the beating of the drums. 
Around the fire, life erupts.
Children laugh and play,
Men dance,
Women sing.
Morning to afternoon,
Labor, sweat, exhaustion,
Scorching heat tirelessly pounding down,
Leading to the cool of the evening breeze,
Refreshing and reviving, like raindrops in a storm.
The beat of the drums continues,
Ba‐dum, ba‐dum.
Sound resonates through the air,
Each hit crisp and clear,
Like the words of a well‐spoken man.
Magenta and orange, the sun sets,
And the drums signal the dawn of night.