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Volume 1 Issue 3







             'Twas the Fourth of July

          © 2024 Brent Allan Winters


’Twas the Fourth of July and the plantin’ was done,

The hay was near up, and McNurlan’s molasses was run.

The doins’ in town were the War Veterans’ affair,

And we knew that there was nobody that wouldn’t be there.

Fireworks’n  frolic, pitchin’ horseshoes’n woo,

It soon would be evening and a lot cooler too.

To go to town, t’would be grand a’plenty,

But how would we get there, with no car (and no money)?

To see the fireworks in full-blown display,

And the finale, Old Glory, but we saw no way.

Then, from way off yonder we heard a pop and a wiz,

Cracklin’ and zingin’, and fizzles that fizzed.

O’er the North-Fork bottoms, sounds otherwise faint,

With eerie force came, as though what is, but which ain’t.

The summer eve with its heavy damp air,

Was thick in the bottom and lay heavy there.

These sounds rebound, skipping 'long top'a that fog,

Drownin’ out the hogs, the frogs, and the dogs.

Though seven-mile off, the sound was surreal,

Like a war way off yonder, with thunder-like peel.

Come on! yelled Davy with a whoop and a shout,

As he took for the corn crib, runnin’ flat out.

Me behind him and right on his heels,

Into the orchard, then raced ’cross the field.

Like a squirrel he leapt, onto the corncrib,

Me on his shoestrings, in my over’all bibs.

Higher and higher we scrambled on up,

Then to the tin roof, and over its cusp.

Then we, ever so careful, to the hiker cap ascended,

Then I looked ’cross the treetops to what Dave had intended.

Clean to town, we could see—as the crow flies—,

O’er the bottoms and prairies, where the fresh-planted corn fields lie,

The VFW’s fireworks filling the sky.

They were veterans of wars long since that we’d won,

Like the Spanish-American and WW I.  

They wanted to remind us of the story,

Of our forebearers’ settlement here, good, while yet gory.

Hacking a path ’cross the wilderness, while conquering their own fear 

Trusting God only, their Bible held near.

Bustin’ the sod, husbanding their wives and the land,

They stomped down the snakes and chased after God’s plan.

A Christian country they founded, though unofficial, yet real,

We now enjoy the land from their deeds and their zeal.

Now our turn has come to seize the day,

So, lead or follow—’er get out’a the way.

To hold your land, Lord, let us not sway,

From your Book’s law of the land, the only right way.


Happy Independence Day Y'all                      

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