We felt in the morning that we should try
for red, white and blue,
but more comfortable were our shorts the color
of sherbet, which we wore,
darting fast as fireflies, until
as twilight deepened,
the sparklers were passed
into our grip.

We did not need to be told
not to run with them—
awe and a little fear pulled our skin back
from our outstretched arms, which made their own
outer space, galaxies fountaining
at our fingertips.

Soon (as we felt control) neon squiggles grew
to loops then our
whole names—
you could see the haloed letters
if you looked—

Years later, I lay with my children
on a blanket in damp grass, scanning the dome of sky
for shooting stars.

Faster than fireflies—you had to keep your eyes open
not to miss them



A belated poem for the 4th! The pic is from a new little book called Bug Cars. Right now it is only available on Blurb. (Sorry that I’ve been so absent–I’ve been working for days on a poem inspired by the Dobbs decision, but haven’t gotten it right–probably too much anger there.)

Take care!

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One Comment on “Sherbet”

  1. M Says:

    I love this, K ~

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