The Fourth of July was a scorcher
As the townfolk competed for shade.
The children were anxiously jumping —
It’s hard to await a parade.
Then suddenly everyone rose up.
“The flag!” came a child’s cry.
We smiled and clapped and saluted —
Old Glory was passing by!
There was pride in the song of the choir
As they honored our soldiers brave.
While emotion gripped, I gazed at the flag
And it gave me a gentle wave.

Poem by Mary Fosnow
Michenry Illinois
Country Magazine