Brown grass, sparlky sky

They’ve been setting off fireworks
all week in my neighborhood. I wake
with a start from dreams like the grainy
footage of far off wars, people shooting,

being shot. It’s something less and more,
something easier to recover from, something
less violent. Today, the brown, dry grass

outside her office caught on fire, and she called
to tell me about it and guess at the causes.
“Last night, I dreamed of wars, and woke
to sparkle showers,” I answered. She thought
that was a good probable cause.


Filed under Musings, poetry

3 responses to “Brown grass, sparlky sky

  1. Great poem slynne
    I love the ponderousness of it,
    if you know what I mean.

  2. This poem is very, very nice, and it also made me sad – something about the contrast between our day to celebrate america with explosions and the violent reality of explosions elsewhere in the world. Your poem is touching with about being cheesy and moral with about being preachy.

  3. A neat little meditation. It had me pondering the recreational nature of both pursuits!

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