Lights in the Sky

It started in the stadium on that white chalk diamond.
We watched the home team send those visitors packing.


We grabbed some sodas and spent some time on our feet,
We paid for general admission and ended up in reserved seats.


We laughed at the away team and booed all the umpires.
The home team made it less like a game and more of a massacre.


We headed out in the middle of the seventh inning stretch,
Because one of the two shes’ had a little one to fetch.


We reconvened at the house and headed out to the back deck.
It was almost full dark and this year’s show was about to start.


The hot sun was finally setting and a bright moon was rising high,
I looked to my left and saw a smile that was brighter than the lights in the sky.


Suddenly there came the thunderous booms of liberty’s birthday cannons.
With bright flowering orbs of high-flying civilian artillery fire.


Though Lord Byron’s moon may still be just as bright,
Nothing could add illumination to that peaceful night.


The loud whistle and whine of heated magnesium was heard all around.
This cacophony of chaotic sounds  made an inspiring American orchestra.


After the city show fizzled out I hit the roads on the edges of town,
Just to watch all the little private displays slowly wind down.


That is the end of my tale of the forth day in July of twenty-eleven.
What a great day, that was the best hangover I have ever had.




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John_Drydin
Poetry
Sonnet
writing John_Drydin
"History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it" ~Winston Churchhill~
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