Happy Birthday,
Imperfect Union,
two hundred-fifty
years young.
The red rockets
trail the sky
over the harbor
above the rooflines
ahead of the thunder
and the lightning
moving up the coast.
We escaped the city
in search of calm coves
and fishing towns
and primordial berries
and grilled weiners
and zesty tomatoes
and loving family.
And we know,
we really do,
that we are swimming
in a pocket of privilege
that not many can feel
even for a day
but we are grateful
and we are bellies full
and stretched legs
and panting dogs
and clammy
hand-in-hand
strolling in pairs
down
a quiet rural road
in the dark
punctuated
by fire in the sky
and we are happy
and we are free
if we can keep it.
2026 Poetry Challenge - Generational - Homage - Lineage - Nostalgia - Of Place - Poems - Reminiscing - Short-form Musings
