Steven Federle Poems
Blue days race
to starry nights.
to panting dreams.
Power is brief.
The mounting sun
with youthful strength
lusts for noon’s brightest heights,
but ennui runs deep and gently receives
the sun’s fading fire,
night’s growing pyre.
Deep thunder shakes this warm July evening
and lightning flashes over the waterfront
filling the clear, starry sky with acrid clouds and glimmering rain
falling to the water as children gaze
in shock and awe,
waiting for the next big one to explode.
False bombardment as celebration: