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"Drums"
As we pull into the lot the sound insinuates into the car. We get out and it surrounds us, pulls us in. We walk for long minutes, passing rows of cars. There are dozens of people walking, in straggling groups, in clumps, singly, all moving toward where the sound is coming from. We reach the end of the grass, the edge of a sharp drop and look down on the dancing ground. At one end sits the circle, a stick in every other hand, and one tenor voice rising in insistent plaint to the relentless beat of the drum.
As we pull into the lot the sound insinuates into the car. We get out and it surrounds us, pulls us in. We walk for long minutes, passing rows of cars. There are dozens of people walking, in straggling groups, in clumps, singly, all moving toward where the sound is coming from. We reach the end of the grass, the edge of a sharp drop and look down on the dancing ground. At one end sits the circle, a stick in every other hand, and one tenor voice rising in insistent plaint to the relentless beat of the drum.