The Day After the Fourth of July

summer slips
through my fingers
like the ribbon through
the loop that ties
her hair…slowly fades,
unnoticed—as sunburned
shoulders do. it’s the


day after the parade
and there are shattered
balloons pressed flat
on the storm drain, cardboard
tatters in the street and
the faint lingering scent
of gunpowder. the Texas
sheetcake is covered with
Saran wrap, the home-churned
vanilla ice cream dressed in
lacy crystals. we sat on the porch


last night and listened to the
pop-pop-pop of the
firecrackers, watched the
night sky alight with flames. at
midnight, the revelers all went
to sleep and we watched
the meadow light up with
God’s nightlights. why—


why do the nights seem so
slow and the days disappear
like a glass of ice tea on
a sunny day? Summer is


slipping through my fingers.


**This was written for HCB poetry prompt: A Tablespoon of Summer. Won't you join us in celebrating this sweet season?