Night Echoes

closely-watched blankets beneath old trees
the smell of hotdogs roasting and
the flavor of cold beer
quenching thirsts after
hard games of wiffle ball
and Frisbee, the young kids
faces red with sun.

the cooler air seeps under the branches
as the secret ceremony begins,
distant men on the island
moving with stealth,
carrying explosives and avoiding
sparks.

the lower view reveals breastworks, some say
a flaming USA will appear, others
hope for ground displays
of patriotism, red, boom,
white and blue, boom.

the first concussive shot booms lungs,
sending echoes through the
nearby woods, the hawks,
startled, flap big wings and
hunker down.

one duck heads for deep water
and caged dogs roar.

quick quick quick
other spangles shout attention
and a momentary silence
makes booms seem heavier when they
burst, rumbling across the river
to picnics where pickles
pucker and visitors shout.

a single boy salutes the bursting blossoming
flag, and all the men wipe hats from heads,
a solemn moment as the flag brightly twinkles,
then fades to noble pyre.

a last gimmick or two, a floating
sky-bright pink,
and the cannonade commences,
a rat-a-tat-tat of lightning
of lung-booming cacophony
bringing fingers to ears and baby cries
of surprise, while moms try
to soothe mushrooming mouths
full of the baptism of fire, of wars
no one now will fight,
but only remember.