Alone in a boatful of swaying drunks
‘five, four, three, two, one’
the fireworks crackled stale light.

‘You’re looking the wrong way,’
they laughed at my back.
‘You’re missing it.’

I spied two

shooting

stars.

Stars of
heavenly hope,
cascading calm,
reminding me of nature’s
wild and wonderful wit.

‘No, you’re looking the wrong way,’
I laughed at them back.
‘You’re missing it.’

Maybe the crowd doesn’t need following.