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Poem

Independence Day has come and gone.... 
All magic has been trucked away to come again another day 
Sweltering, yet, in the dewy lawn,
is the fragrance of burnt offerings....
hovering low like a old gray ghost, 
     vast over the Riverside Park

                          
In the still, early dawn, that now murmurs like a whisper...
Where evening throngs and
       voices of oohs and aahhs were heard just hours before...
            Where excited eyes glistened and reflected a night's sky alive with fire
A solemn morning of chattering squirrels
                      remain the only sign of life
                            as they nibble on pieces of hot dogs, or popcorn hiding in the grass

Morning air is cool and damp
Park benches, a bandstand, hilly mounds of grass and a playground
        abandoned, barren and lonely... 
           The day appears to be wearing mourning clothes
                   Of candy wrappers, watermelon rinds, mustard coated paper plates
                                                spent sparklers, fire crackers, one lone sneaker....

Where hours ago, radios played, laughter, cheering, hooting, jeering, 
      deafening man-made thunder made babies cry,
            dogs tremble, children clap their hands over ears

Now there sprawls a silent, somber dawn
The only music in early morning light...
   comes from a slight breeze that stirs
      a tossed Pepsi paper cup
          as it clatters a pop, pop, popping tune...
              hopping among the dried, brown leaves down an empty sidewalk....

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