The pounding sound of rhythmic drums
   shatters stillness this eve.
 I know not whether snares are banged
   to celebrate or grieve.

The pace isn't slow enough to guide
   a somber procession,
 nor does it race at the pace of 
   jocular expression. 

It's a well-kept beat, approaching,
   that makes the windows shake,
 but seems suitable only for
   keeping me awake.