Painted Egg Statue On Sydney Road Poem by Sue Oaks

We waited, apart, away from the church
That sacred building, its solid mass
Reaching towards the heavy Melbourne sky.
The songs floated out,
Clear despite the taunting breeze which was busy blowing leaves
into disarray
across the icy gutters.

We huddled together,
A striking sight in our suits
Of black and red,
Silver instruments clutched in our arms
Feeling rather out of place
Just there to do a job.

With chattering teeth we waited
As the service continued,
On and on as toes grew stiff inside black leather shoes.
We talked trivialities and gazed at the road,
Watching as locals went in and out of shops near-by
For their morning paper and coffee.
Then, with sudden flurry,
'Band, fall in! ', we are summoned!

The doors of the church swing open,
spewing out a reverent group of excited worshippers,
Holy statue held proudly in strong young arms,
Ranks becoming one as we all move forward together.
The Blessed Virgin Mary,
Eye-catching pink like a child's painted egg,
Teetered precariously through the streets
Narrowly missing bowing branches,
bravely navigating the busy path before us
to a cacophony of joyous families.

The band played on,
Notes scattering and merging with the
Car horns blaring on Sydney road,
The people sang and raised their arms,
As trombone slides narrowly avoided disaster,
lippery soles sliding on tram-lines
But lips still managing to hold a tune.

Finally she reached her destination,
Proud young men delivering the statue
In one piece to the Bishop up the road,
Music has turned to mush
in the craziness of the city streets
and we barely hear the drum-major's
'Band, fall out! ',
Just in time to
Swivel right, feet together, step off and disperse.
Mission accomplished.