the dogs howl and
cower ‘neath the sofa
the occasional bark
or yip,
a sign that all is
well enough
the faint sizzle in
the air
and the hanging
presence of smoke
lend a thought that
there must also be fire
and so we look to
the heavens to see
the grand flowers
and rockets
that remind us of
the war on our land
when we became free
of the colonizers
no longer a part of
the empire
and so the bright
images in our skies
carry the message
that we think of it
as a passing fancy,
a simple matter of pride
our showcase of our
sovereignty
with sharp bursts of
gunpowder
and the many colors
that ripple away into dust
as we sing the songs
of our nation
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