After the 4th

Early morning after the 4th, and there's a

Stillness to the air...

The void howls out beyond the stillness...

In the far distance there are tears;

Nicks in the cities' consciousness...

At long last tiny plots break through...

A car alarm from somewhere cries...

A siren trails off in the gloom...

The roar of commerce has subsided mostly...

On the periphery: a background sound

Like one would find inside a conch shell;

Night air assailants sleeping sound...

...Tomorrow they'll regain their footing,

Stumble groggily to work...

So few will think about the night before,

And how unconsciously they tried

To rend a hole in the monotony...

To send their message through the sky...

Of course it's gift wrapped in patriotic pablum...

So many things we do are veiled...

Early morning after July 4th's madness...

There is a sense of relief

Among the frail

Foothills of imaginings...

We are descending back to our roots...

Basking in hollowness of the empty gun shells...

...Somewhere the Anarchists salute

Their pilings of documentation of

Long past flirtings with the law...

Now they revel in their golden years

Mouthing a toothless

Proud guffaw...

Who's really won?...

Who's really lost?...

It seems so senseless

By halflight...

The birds outside begin their chirpings

As sleep's returning without a fight...

Bunny Villaire

7/5/23

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