‘Parade:’ A July Fourth poem from a reader

A dawning summer morning,

‘Neath an early amber sky,

On a day the waving cornfields,

Has just come up to be knee-high.

Folks are all abustle,

Although the sun has just arose,

At a time when most days they’re still home,

In the throes of sweet repose.

The final decorations,

Are going on each float,

The high school kids have made one,

As a castle with a moat.

Another carries Lincoln,

With a beard and top hat, too,

And one, the city muck-a-mucks,

A government Who’s Who.

The mayor strolls down Main Street,

Puffin’ on a big cigar,

He’ll lead the big procession,

From the backseat of his car.

A band of local school kids,

With instruments in tune,

Mill around a parking lot,

Their uniforms bestrew.

They’ll march right near the front today,

Behind the unfurled flag,

All set to pipe and drum along,

While mom and dad do brag.

Some cast a wary eye about,

Checking out the sky,

For signs of rain clouds brewing,

Tho the forecast calls for dry.

The war vets stand there somber,

Recalling battles past,

They’ll march along in silence,

To their fallen mates steadfast.

Townfolks start to gather,

Of every stripe and hue,

With giddy anticipation,

For this annual to-do.

The clock moves ever onward,

Heading up to highest noon,

Then a whistle makes a blaring sound,

The march will start quite soon.

The band salutes Old Glory,

This just isn’t some charade,

Our town is all a’beamin’

For the Fourth of July parade.