front desk, sheraton

At sixteen, seeing that soldier majorette so

bold and sure as she led the high school

marching band down the town’s parade route

in white hat, gloves and boots with tassels,

matching skirt and jacket navy-blue, and oh

the artistry, how she snatched up the high-

tossed, still-twirling baton in one sweep of

the hand before sending it up again and even

as the tree debris from the wand-clipped maple

fell around her, never blinked nor missed

a marching beat, her parading smile unfaded –

Which, through inspiration solely, kept its hold on

her those years – to crawling up stone steps to drug-

addiction rehab, skinning knees to bleeding till

she reached the topmost landing where she took

her place on steady feet to take the final blessing –

Which got her here to Sheraton’s front desk and

marbled lobby to see the sunup running leaf-thin

blades of light on potted palms, pink roses, peonies,

irises and calla lilies, rendered more resplendent

by the high-rise glass and mirrored walls that frame

her here at center stage in navy suit and shiny

buttons over starched-white blouse, to standing tall

and proud to welcome guests to her atrium botanical.