An Ode to Oktoberfest

The clinking of glasses and wafting perfumes,
Of schnitzels and strudels, oompah filling the room. 

The voices of thousands, buzzing in celebration,
Toasting to the season, with big grins of elation. 

Packed shoulder-to-shoulder at long wooden tables,
Then leaping up for a dance, hoping the bench will hold stable.

As seats are vacated, it seems quite like a race,
But with a grin and a kind ask, there’s always more space.

Up and down the bustling aisles the beer maidens swim,
Carrying liters of libation, five steins to a limb!

Finally seated, now for something to drink,
It’s all brewed in Munich—you don’t have to think.

The band finishes a song, and then signals for a toast,
Raise up your glass, sing “Ein Prosit”, yell “Prost!”

A chat with the locals “Do you come every year?”
“We don’t plan on it, but somehow always find ourselves here!”

Then comes a roar, as someone attempts to finish a mug,
The five-seconds of fame must be worth every chug.

Now after a liter, your tum gets to rumbling real good,
Tempted by roasted chicken, spätzle, and other Bavarian food.

Which one is the best? I’d say “the wurst”,
Whether it’s brat, curry, or weiss, in mustard submersed.  

Ready for a new tent, you’re Marstall-bound,
But not before a few spins on the ol’ merry-go-round.

Soon again you’re arm in arm with folks from all nations,
Here at the table they’re your closest relations.  

As the night closes the rain starts to come down,
With lederhosens and dirndls all running for town.

From this description it’s starting to sound cold, dark, and dreary,
But after this splendid affair it’s quite the contrary. 

Because in this Autumn shower, you’re really quite blessed,
with belly and heart full from the one, the only: Oktoberfest.

Peace be the journey,

-Cody