Purple Poets
Lorrie Wolfe
Today is Wednesday July 9, and I am still smiling about my experience on July 4.
It had been a long, difficult week, but a fellow poet invited me to join her on Friday to watch the Fort Collins Fourth of July Parade. We would have good seats because the parade route went right in front of her 100-year-old house on Mountain Avenue. I hadn’t watched my town’s annual parade in decades, not since my own children, now in their forties, had been small. My hopes weren’t high.
But I was surprised.
I got a dose of good old-fashioned hopefulness. The parade started when two cops on black and silver motorcycles motored down the avenue, making sure all the kids’ feet were safely tucked above the curbs. Then came an assortment of big trucks, slow and shiny. People applauded wildly for trucks from the City’s Department of Natural Resources, shouting “Thank you for taking care of our trees!” The Light and Power trucks got huge waves and “Thanks for keeping the lights on!” The truck drivers and the guys riding shotgun grinned and waved back. Smiling City Sanitation workers in neon green vests, walking beside the trucks, threw candy to kids who scampered the lawns to get a piece. They got applause and thanks too.
Then scores of veterans, marching in fatigues and camo uniforms of all eras and branches of the military, many now gray-bearded with long hippie hair, reminded us of the courage it takes to put your body on that line of defense – and they too got grateful applause. People shouted, “Thank you for your service!” One walker, a woman dressed as Betsy Ross, waved a flag with 13 stripes and stars.
And then, there came a group of about 15 people in assorted purple shirts and creative hats. Marching proudly in front were two women carrying a banner labeled “Poets of Fort Collins.” Following them came the poets, handing out poems to people lining the curb – and bringing smiles to the faces of everyone. “Want a poem?” they called out. And so many hands went up and reached forward, accepting pieces of paper and saying thank you. Mostly adults extended their hands, but teenagers and children did too.
Wow, so many people eager to receive and read poetry. What a sight. Grinning poets handing out messages – some of their own work, some from favorite American writers, some frankly political, even haiku on small strips of paper hanging from loops of string that quickly became bracelets.
My friend and I wildly clanged our cowbells and applauded above our heads. The poets waved. We shouted, “Thank You for your words!”
All together, they handed out 2,000 poems. That’s 2,000 poetry readers; 2,000 people who probably shared a poem with their families and friends lining the parade route. Thousands more who would actually read or hear a poem that morning.
One preteen girl standing next to me held up her bracelet, saying “What’s this?” Her mom leaned over, read it, smiled and said, “Oh, it’s a haiku.” “What’s that?” the girl asked, and Mom replied “It’s a 3 line poem with 17 syllables. I’ll explain it when we get home.” And then I heard her say, “We can write one later, too.” And her daughter said, “Cool.”
Now that’s a conversation that made me smile. And I’m smiling still.
--Lorrie Wolfe
Thank you to poet Erica Reid for organizing poets to march in the parade.
Next year, we’ll have many more!
It had been a long, difficult week, but a fellow poet invited me to join her on Friday to watch the Fort Collins Fourth of July Parade. We would have good seats because the parade route went right in front of her 100-year-old house on Mountain Avenue. I hadn’t watched my town’s annual parade in decades, not since my own children, now in their forties, had been small. My hopes weren’t high.
But I was surprised.
I got a dose of good old-fashioned hopefulness. The parade started when two cops on black and silver motorcycles motored down the avenue, making sure all the kids’ feet were safely tucked above the curbs. Then came an assortment of big trucks, slow and shiny. People applauded wildly for trucks from the City’s Department of Natural Resources, shouting “Thank you for taking care of our trees!” The Light and Power trucks got huge waves and “Thanks for keeping the lights on!” The truck drivers and the guys riding shotgun grinned and waved back. Smiling City Sanitation workers in neon green vests, walking beside the trucks, threw candy to kids who scampered the lawns to get a piece. They got applause and thanks too.
Then scores of veterans, marching in fatigues and camo uniforms of all eras and branches of the military, many now gray-bearded with long hippie hair, reminded us of the courage it takes to put your body on that line of defense – and they too got grateful applause. People shouted, “Thank you for your service!” One walker, a woman dressed as Betsy Ross, waved a flag with 13 stripes and stars.
And then, there came a group of about 15 people in assorted purple shirts and creative hats. Marching proudly in front were two women carrying a banner labeled “Poets of Fort Collins.” Following them came the poets, handing out poems to people lining the curb – and bringing smiles to the faces of everyone. “Want a poem?” they called out. And so many hands went up and reached forward, accepting pieces of paper and saying thank you. Mostly adults extended their hands, but teenagers and children did too.
Wow, so many people eager to receive and read poetry. What a sight. Grinning poets handing out messages – some of their own work, some from favorite American writers, some frankly political, even haiku on small strips of paper hanging from loops of string that quickly became bracelets.
My friend and I wildly clanged our cowbells and applauded above our heads. The poets waved. We shouted, “Thank You for your words!”
All together, they handed out 2,000 poems. That’s 2,000 poetry readers; 2,000 people who probably shared a poem with their families and friends lining the parade route. Thousands more who would actually read or hear a poem that morning.
One preteen girl standing next to me held up her bracelet, saying “What’s this?” Her mom leaned over, read it, smiled and said, “Oh, it’s a haiku.” “What’s that?” the girl asked, and Mom replied “It’s a 3 line poem with 17 syllables. I’ll explain it when we get home.” And then I heard her say, “We can write one later, too.” And her daughter said, “Cool.”
Now that’s a conversation that made me smile. And I’m smiling still.
--Lorrie Wolfe
Thank you to poet Erica Reid for organizing poets to march in the parade.
Next year, we’ll have many more!