My poet friend, Dennis Lange, has captured the heart of the 4th of July celebration in this poem. I want to share it with my readers as well.

The Bard on the Hill

I wrote this poem last summer during a
severe drought that caused officials to
cancel 4th of July fireworks displays
because of dry conditions creating extreme
fire hazards.

The Quiet And Dry Fourth Of July

Tis quiet, this night – the valley down below
Brings forth no crackling sounds, no sudden glow.
There is no rocket’s burst to bloom a flare.
Like patient’s room filled with death’s doom – tis bare.

The silence on this night is keenly heard,
So out of place, a muted singing bird.
This night is for a celebration, wild;
Instead the sights and sounds are strangely mild.

The Texas drought produced a fireworks ban.
With trees and grass so tender that they can
Explode in flames from just a tiny spark,
And rage till rain enough to raise the ark.

And so, across the valley from my deck,
The Fourth comes forth from out a strangled neck,

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