The Parade

Always the fox reaching for the grape.
A box of snapshots from a small town parade.
See the smiles perched in the carriage?
Under furry blankets, waving at strangers.
Let's hitch our wagon to enthusiasm's horse.
We don't need a reason to dangle our feet.
Smiles from a crowd make a lovely breeze.
Here, i give you this perfect grass saber.
Squeeze it taunt, between the thumbs,
Blow your kiss firmly.
The sound zaps storm clouds from miles away.
See the eyes of the deep horse watching?
He can feel what saddles our mind.
Let's think him a tale of love-dipped happy.
He'll carry us proudly in this wonderful parade.
Up ahead, in the center, a town hall is waiting.
Hunkered in time and flanked by worn benches.
Giant oaks shake hands and host meetings.
Where busy squirrels pass amendments,
and birds busk for change.