Fourth of July Festival by Bruce Gunther

The amateurs will be out,
tossing their cherry bombs 
in the street while a kid
with a sparkler chases
a dog down the driveway.
The couple at the festival,
numb from sun and cocktails,
holds hands while staring 
at the night sky.
The terrier seeks shelter
in the bathtub while a woman
out front passes out tiny flags
which we’ll wave in the air drunkenly,
insanely happy we don’t have to face
the boss and his usual scheme
tomorrow. Meanwhile, the ghost of 
a British soldier limps out 
from nearby woods as if
emerging from a dream.
 

​Bruce Gunther is a retired journalist and writer who lives in Michigan. He's a graduate of Central Michigan University. His poems have appeared in The Comstock Review, East by Northeast, Modern Haiku, the Dunes Review, and others.