The drum beats echo in the quiet night,
One beat, a pause, a sudden louder beat,
A rising crescendo that reeks of fear,
The villagers stare at the well oiled dancers,
Dizzied by their reminiscent encircling of a fierce fire,
The dance not enough to lift their hearts,
The fire not warm enough in this cold night,
The crackling firewood now glows a soft red light,
One beat, a pause, a fainter last beat,
The crowd disperses reluctantly with low murmurs,
I overhear an old man’s weak mumble,
“They forgot to play our song,again”