thousands sit
on lawn chairs
in summer grass
amid the smell of bug repellent, charcoal grills and
gunpowder
ears filled with pop, bang, poppity-pop
from a sparkling spectacle above
for a fleck of time, in the long blue stretch of night
all eyes are fixed on one thing
together
looking at heavens
without words
only light
that leaves as quickly as it came
written July 4, 2008, the last time I witnessed a fireworks display