March, March, Left and Right

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Mar. 25/17

a

A marching band, that
Is where I spent the happy
Hours of growing up.
Finding the after beats,
Honking on a horn of silver.
Marching in Minnesota,
California, Oregon,
Las Vegas, all over Alaska,
Maryland and Pennsylvania.
I loved to march
Watching those with battered
Lips, lick them in quick
attacks by the tongue
Which would really rest
On a concert stage with Carol Channing.
Loved the changes in season
And when we marched in the
Chinese New Year's parade
In San Francisco, and the
Tuba players had firecrackers
Tossed in the bell to
Drive the evil spirits
Of military service out.
We marched at openings,
Closings, and when we 
stood still, the world cheered.
I loved to march wearing
Orange and black,
Green over green,
Left foot, right foot,
Straw foot, hay foot,
Angles and diagonals
Squares of precision.
I always thought that
The band would hold together 
Over time. But they marched
Away, each to their own pace.
I'm a victim of moonlit hair
That pretends to color,
Looking at the stars 
In a cold March night,
And dreaming of the cadence
Of drums, beating and beating
And bb ee aa t i n g g g g
As they march out of sight and sound
Disappearing into time.
I dream of marching into the stars
Lit for all times 
If you would just look up.
Can you hear the tune?
The brass, woodwinds,
And the percussive beat
Of living a life.
Percussion leading me
In living every day
With the guidance of
The drum major pounding
In my ears. Boom bah boom
Bah, Boom. Then we rest.

Pageantry

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.