Day After

Sparkles dissipate
leaving stars forever.
Bright red cascades
disappear on black velvet
faster than crepe myrtle
blossoms covering grass.
Patriotic songs fade
into distance until
nothing is heard but crickets,
not even a weeping mother.
Burnt grass patches,
fifth of July roadside,
left over night antics
in a burn ban town.
One day of rain
coaxing tiny green shoots,
the earth shames us
and reclaims her own.

One thought on “Day After

  1. Jae Rose

    The morning of the 5th..in any country that post bang day is flat..hollow..the ‘weeping mother’ tucked in there is a blinder..silence drowning out sorrow..maybe..it’s good to read your poems again..I hope you had a good trip away..Jae

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