A MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE
Sometime in the early morning hours,
July the fifth, while most were deep asleep,
Some fool lit a bouquet of bursting flowers
That must have made our startled neighbors leap
From their snug beds, as much appalled as we:
The normal fireworks of July four
We tolerate with equanimity,
But such egregious ruckus we deplore.
“Come on, you fuddy-duddies, get a grip;
It’s still the weekend of this holiday,
And I’ve some extra doozies to let rip”—
Is what I might imagine he would say.
I heard one neighbor shout into his yard:
“May you—you fool—be hoist by your petard!”