July 4th and the Web Footed
Works of fire and thunder
flower the surface of a dark river.
When the rockets
are dead-eyed and spent,
muffled calls remain -
a flap and gabble,
of the peevish and ruffled.
Night stumbles over the edge
of gunpowder clouds.
Ducks deliver themselves
to the dark-dinged sky.
Distant cannons sigh.
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