The day was made for celebration.
I gather friends and family, Grill quantities of meat,
And watch my nieces play with dogs
While I drink a semiannual beer.
I've not much appetite,
But I sample the potato salad.
As afternoon yields to dusk
Fathers tutor eager sons
In the careful use of lighters.
Flickering in youthful faces
I see the great anticipation
Of colorful explosions
Of gunpowder and heated air,
Remembering with waning pleasure
That yearning for ignition:
But the flame will scarce outlast
The final pyrotechnic charge,
And I'll be left with visions of
Bright flowers unfolding in the sky
That wither all too soon.
