Waving in the midnight air,
back grounded by a sky of clouds,
She gleams in the light of the moon

Still she stands on her throne,
worn by time,
strutting with incomparable pride.

You can see the faces of men,
Young and old,
fighting and dying for a cause worth more than anything in the world,
freedom.

How can one not pause to acknowledge this awesome scene?
You feel almost guilty for not watching the stars wave in the wind, and the stripes whip in the air.
The calling to be a part of this phenomenon is one I dare not try to escape.
Ol’ Glory has caught my eye, and I cannot look away.