Up before the dawn,
Which looks smoky, and falsely 'pinked'.
Throw cats outside, open blinds, start coffee,
Accept the force of The Fourth of July. Pain,
Happiness, respect and regret clasp
The pre-dawn silence
To Its breast.

Soon, a bird twitters, more a murmur, really,
A cellular sigh from feathered beak.
More follow as gray seconds flee,
And white moments come breathing
Another sun.

Coffee’s good! Cats become restless,
Outside, penned away from breakfast.
I open two cans of food and portion it out,
Six times, go to open both doors, and try to
Stay out of the way, laughing, more often than not.
Outside to feed and water the chickens and rabbits,
The old Shar-pei, is gone.

Back in the house, time slips by,
But crashes back as cicadas start their
Elated mournful dirge of summer-heat
And drum-beating hearts, and the need to
Sing-swift of insect life. Today,
The souls of desert-bonds strike deep.

Just like this darn cricket who’s been under
My washer for the last two days!
Chirp-chirping of freedom and repetitiveness.
I don’t know which sound bothers me worse,
But, when I thought I had that cricket cornered, tonight,
Under a cottage cheese tub, I felt this strange ‘prick’
On the tip of my index finger, and, there sat the cricket!

I let out a yell, scream, whatever, flung it off
with a horrific shudder, luckily chased
It out of the house, terrified by its contact,
and glad it was gone! Soon after, other crickets,
outside, started up. You may not believe it, but
it’s quiet here.

No bombs, no sirens, no screams
Of dying occupants with human voices. I’ve
Forgone my past pomp and circumstance
To simply presenting myself to what
Was, what is, and what’s to come.

The fireworks are about to commence, soon,
I think. I’ve placed a single chair in the yard.
A cricket, probably a relative of the one I threw out,
Continues its rendition of taps...

Can’t find my 3-D glasses, guess
I’ll watch them with naked eyes.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/4/07