A Poem: Smoke of the Free
On the morning of the fifth,
As the sun rises
And the clouds float,
The smoke falls to the ground.

From the night before
As seers saw colors dive from the sky
And hearers heard loud blasts
From the celebrations of freedom.

Look out upon the horizon
Through the fog of the battles
Of those who sacrificed all they had
And gave to the better good.

Burgers sizzle over hot coals
Tin cans pop with a spray
Talk continues between new and old
Wars continue overseas.

So while we travel between states
To visit family with smiles,
Let us see the smoke on the horizon,
The smoke of the free.