I went for a march which
can hardly be the correct terminology but
it is what happened to me or
was what I felt
when I showed up at the place
where they told us to meet because
I went. For a march.
And what I found was people:
people I knew,
used to know,
was glad to know again. We met
for a march
where we ambled and chatted.
I was a poor and hesitant chanter
although I had cheat sheets in my hand.
The seasoned and vocal protesters behind
us had volume and a repertoire
and I could not keep up.
But I appreciated their efforts
in teaching me about marching.
At the beginning
there was standing and spotting and running up to
and hugging and greeting and sharing.
Then there was listening and a moment
when I held my breath and thought
the tears might come.
I was offered signs but wanted none
preferring to keep my hands free
to wield my device which knows too much already.
When we marched
my feet were cold and our path oddly shaped.
It was a brief march,
well attended and a notable beginning.
I think we know we will be doing this