Frightening the Dogs
July 1 2026
I hear them going off
somewhere outside
on a sultry summer night.
But fireworks
are meant to be seen, not heard,
standing in a crowd
necks craned skyward
gasping ooo’s and aaah’s.
Because entranced by these displays
we revert to childhood.
We are toddlers, excited by balloons,
infants, awed by dangling keys,
eyes wide
and mouths frozen
in small circles of surprise.
So does finding myself bored
and repelled by the waste
suggest I’m just an old curmudgeon,
too earnest and jaded
for good clean fun?
That I’m unable to shed my reserve,
appreciate the artistry,
or revert to the child
who lurks in all of us?
Dogs are frightened
birds confused
former soldiers traumatized.
While I’m simply annoyed
by the gratuitous noise,
and fireworks
I’ve seen a million times before.
By a display
that seems more desperate
than genuine thrill,
more generic
than a celebration
of this singular day.
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