Those guys with umbrellas,
what's a parade without them?
quick squats, big stomached, high feet  *

stepping over the debris left
behind by Katrina,
as if it never existed;

they dance, a tradition handed
down for generations,
celebrating life after death.

New Orleans rides on the hope
spinning purple, gold, green
through the city they -- I -- love.  Let

them come, let them come!  these
satined, sequined steppers
second lining down avenues

of sorrow.  Hear the brass bands play,
come out of hiding and
watch the parade of the living

dancing in the sunshine, hoist the
umbrellas high against
the dirge we've been singing too long.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman (4/29)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* From "Duke Ellington's New Orleans Suite," witten by Ava Leavell Haymon.