Fireworks And Fireflies

Of fireworks and of fireflies
I would rather those that flare
like distant stars, or blinking eyes;
silent, modest in the air,
not those exploding so loud
to assault the stillness won
with times of war, those now so proud
with gunpowder smoke, a dawn
of manmade fire and thunder,
crackling gunshot, hissing high
in the night like salvoes under
the serene midsummer sky
to wake the dreamers asleep
in hard-won times of calm;
to startle those who wish to keep
free from sins of Absalom.
Silence and the dreamy stars
deepen peace with more peace yet,
not the cannonade that bombards
like drunk braggarts who forget
that lofty pride oft provokes
eagerness to war once more
and, so, boastfulness only stokes
the chance of fire at one’s door.
Let me revere with fireflies
the times of peace bought with death;
let me fall asleep with such skies
that resound with Nature’s breath.

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