Poetry

History's Parade

by Terry Barlow
05/26/20
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From his penthouse porch high above the parade the father watched his children the little specks on the street below craning their necks and stretching and straining on tiptoe to soak in as much of the spectacle and the hoopla and fanfare as possible. The father from his position above could see the end from the beginning well beyond the city limits from one end of town to the other all at once. His children on the other hand were in the thick of the parade and saw and heard and smelled only the sound and fury of what was immediately present to their senses. They were occupying themselves with that one city block in front of the hotel where they were staying together to celebrate this grand occasion.