An original poem by Henry Lyman.
While fireworks over county fairgrounds hover,
as rockets whistling bang and everybody cheers,
fireflies miles away spangle a hillside field
with secret slowly moving silent little stars.
Statelessly floating as on some unseen river,
floating just above the ground and spinning as
the cries grow dimmer, what bigger, better banner
could a world ever wave than this tiny anthem?
— Henry Lyman
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