The streets are lined with bunting;
alternating red and white,
With
midnight fields of royal blue atwinkle with starlight.
The sun is burning deep into the
thick mid-morning haze,
And a gentle breeze begins to
flutter as Old Glory waves.
The boulevard is filling up as
folks with folding chairs
Begin to jockey for their spots
away from midday's glare.
The very old... The very young, and
all ages in between
Have come to watch the pageant soon
to burst upon the scene.
As vendors hawk their wares and
toddlers wave their flags with glee,
Anticipation rises to a
fever-pitched degree.
They stand and watch the boulevard
awaiting the first sign;
A drumbeat or a bugle or a fire
engine's whine.
Now, somewhere in the distance
rings an old familiar sound;
The whistle of the bandleader as
drums begin to pound.
Now suddenly the street is filled
with brass and tambourine.
The band is playing
"Sousa" as the crowd begins to scream.
With flag and flourish they proceed
to march in unison.
They look as if they could continue
'til the setting sun.
Another band. Another tune. The
crowd fills with applause.
And in between the snare and fife
fill every break and pause.
Jesters and jugglers make their way
along the avenue
As Joey sits on grandpa shoulders
for a better view.
Cotton candy, hot dogs, ice cream,
every kind of fare.
Smells of summer rising, falling,
wafting through the air.
The funny cars and unicycles,
clowns with funny feet;
Floats and flowers, soldiers,
sailors fill the crowded street.
And every politician who the crowd
helped to elect
Is kissing babies, pressing flesh
and craning at the neck.
And now, a pause. The honor guard,
both silent and aloof,
Stills every hand and every heart;
demanding quiet proof
That this above all other days is
filled with truth and worth.
For this day is the day we
celebrate our nation's birth.
The parade at last is over. The
crowd is satisfied.
They make their way to home and
hearth. Their hearts filled up with pride.
Their afternoon is spent in
reminiscence of this day
And others they have passed in
quite the same familiar way.
And soon the evening stillness and
its' shadows fill their eyes.
Again they stand in silence. Their
gaze fixed upon the skies.
The back yard and the barbecue are
just a memory
As darkness bodes excitement for
what is soon to be.
And now the skies burst open with
flash and flare and boom.
Horizon to horizon fills until
there's no more room,
And every flash and every bang and
every boom and pop
Is cheered on by the crowd who pray
the spectacle won't stop.
But when the final rocket bursts and
the cannon's roar is stilled,
When with moonlight high above the
starry night is filled,
The rowdy crowd will dissipate, as
pride fills up their chest,
In a land where no one settles for
being second best.
So let no foe defame her nor her
dignity deride.
Hoist her banner skyward. Saluting
it with pride.
A day like any other?
No.
This is a special day;
The birthday of our country.
May god bless the
U.S.A.
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Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent
