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!”

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