(A Shore Point in New Hampshire)
Pigeons shot from the pavilion eaves
At the first explosion, fanning out over
The festive crowd avid for any violence
If only to see some rockets launched
Against the sea's wide darkness and silence.
A final rocket on the dark,
A constellation hovering near,
A momentary chandelier,
Lightened the summer shore of faces,
The land, the sea, the heavenly places,
And then winked out. Like burning leaves,
The slow debris rained down the air.
The birds that roved, affrighted, everywhere
Rained into the pavilion eaves.
At the first explosion, fanning out over
The festive crowd avid for any violence
If only to see some rockets launched
Against the sea's wide darkness and silence.
A final rocket on the dark,
A constellation hovering near,
A momentary chandelier,
Lightened the summer shore of faces,
The land, the sea, the heavenly places,
And then winked out. Like burning leaves,
The slow debris rained down the air.
The birds that roved, affrighted, everywhere
Rained into the pavilion eaves.
Ernest Kroll
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