he big tent buffers the empty skies
That remind of uncertainty and solitude .
Without the hijinks of clowns, wonder dies :

An alternate existence full of disguise .
In seats the gathering folk are glued ;
The big tent buffers the immense skies

That swallow the small workaday lives .
Nightly the calliope world is viewed :
Without flaming-hoop tigers, wonder dies,

All the sparkling costumes that mesmerize,
For onlookers thirsty for the magic imbued .
The big tent buffers the empty whys

Of sacred grounding or a roll of the dice .
Idling trucks wait for the show to conclude ;
Without trapeze and high wire, wonder dies .

So the circus goes up for a new town’s eyes ;
The humdrum welcomes a gay interlude—
The big tent suffers the endless skies :
Without a circus, I wonder what dies ?