A Holy Day of Obligation

Wake up! Saints down 45th, aloft
on brass, on dads.
Families not hungover, godly
horns bleat past the bed.
the dads and their trombones, the child-free and
tubas. Birds competing
"they're still there?"I thought
they weren't still there, the riot
raised when all the saints have
trundled on, have
labored in the sun.