782. SERGEANT MAJOR BENICANT

SERGEANT MAJOR BENICANT
And really I can't thank you enough
for your stripes and resonance and
shape and form and reason and rhyme.
It's all so much together - wrapped up
as one big thing. Sergeant Major Benicant
marching on the field. What a major find!
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There's not been one before you like and
won't be ever since. They keep their distance,
parading around you in fear! And all those
woodwinds you command - bassoon and oboe
and clarinet and such. Commanding presence!
You blow!
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15 ancient cannons - Civil War vintage I bet -
are brought out onto the field. They are as
silently arranged as Death would be were it
being presented : men in tophats and girls
(incongruously) in gingham. I can't make
mention of anything else. It is too ridiculous
to say. Sergeant Major Benicant, a'marching
upon the field. What a major find you yield!