A Penny For The Guy Poem by Robert Dummett

Nine o'clock....almost.
Backyards and parks spark with the glow of 'guys.'
People hurry home to savor the roast;
The inch of time steps swift.
Traffic is a ghost tonight and streets turn
Fast down black throats.

Darkness drains the battery of lights
And flames snake to taste the timber with
Split tongues.
Night draws her black blanket around
Yellow and red faces dancing in sky.

Nine o'clock.
Night steams and screams with sounds of fireworks
Belching an explosion of colour and starlight
Into a moment frozen, like a forest
Of fireflies caught in a flash of flight.
Ignition snores and a lone firework rockets,
Bows, then whistles aimlessly in the wind.....
And fades impotently into the night.