On Saturday, two houses burned to ash and a third was severely damaged. People weren't home, but three dogs died and devastated that family. Stopped counting the number of fires all those fireworks set off in this drought-stricken area.
My writers' group had an assignment, to write a sonnet. Instead of using the more common Shakespearean form, I chose the Petrarchen form:
Fireworks
These angry eyes, o’er which my tears doth burn,
See fireworks sparkle high, their beauty masked
By utter destruction, for as they passed
Their embers fell to spark dry plants and churn
A conflagration. Yet they had no concern
That their fiery trails caused more questions asked.
I wonder, who next shall have that dread turn
When their beloved pets are isotherm?
I dare not retire ‘til revelers cease
The careless unconcern for others’ plight.
I stand with my hose, primed to release
The water and hopefully gain some peace
By slaking the red motes I see this night,
Leaving only moisture upon our street.