Such an awkward word, Displaying glorious sound and color, A walk along hallowed paths. The flag waving, Standing, Feeling the drums, Step lively, you, to get curb seats. Patriotic, I sound off and stand tall Even when performing Above the Arctic Circle. Pageantry: the oldest veteran served, A beauty queen turns on heels, Awards given and received. Flowing flags drape Dark coffins Holding sacred the souls Of the common man, mighty warriors. Flags spread like blankets, Held by sailors, soldiers, marines, All looking chin first, staring Straight ahead. Serving. Keys to the city handed out Like Cotton Candy Floss. Lords of the State bow. I wonder at it all. I saw Minnesota's grand birthday 150 years of statehood with marching forces of the Guard, escorted by Shriner's in clown cars. Clydesdales step strongly. Antique cars, convertibles. Children shiny clean, Bravely wondering at Bareback riders, cowboys. Wagons full of farmers. Tractors, Combines, Gimme Caps, The band, with brassy calling, Marches tapping One hundred and twenty beats To the minute, left foot first. County Queens, and Grange cars. The governor standing tall. A distinguished servant of time. A spectacle of dreams, Both realized and wished, Ceremonies of serious joyful pomp Remembered for all time as That Show, where we were And are at our best.
Ann WJ White 