The 4th on The Porch

Dolores Fruth


I sit upon the Bllue Ridge porch

And scan the scene below.

I look upon the housetops

As I watch the traffic flow.

In the distance I hear drum beats

With faint music from the bands,

The Passavant float is passing.

To the clapping of the hands.

I cannot see the fire trucks

Or the people who are there.

I only hear the distant sounds

That travel through the air.

Now residents are returning

They see me high above.

They wave their flags in tribute

To the America we love.

I can no longer join the crowd

But I say gratefully

That they’re celebrating freedom

Just beneath my balcony.




America’s Birthday

                   -Dolores Fruth©


The 4th of July, our nation’s birth,

A day of celebration.

The fireworks soon will light the sky,

A booming reverberation.

The sizzling of the barbecues

In backyards everywhere,

The tantalizing smells invade

The sultry summer air.

We see the twirling of batons

And hear the drummers beat.

We cheer the local high school band

As they shuffle down the street.

Fireworks, parades and barbecues

Are fun for us you see,

But do we pause and speculate

Of how it came to be?

The freedom that we have this day

Starts with a cannon ball.

The minutemen would bleed and die

To give it to us all.

So now rejoice and celebrate

The legacy in your hand.

Wave your flag and then decide

To preserve our fragile land.



Summer Heat

                       By Dolores Fruth


I waited for summer

With so much delight.

I envisioned warm breezes

And cool, airy nights.

Instead I am wilting

In all of this heat.

The grass has turned yellow

As it burns on my feet.

The flowers are drooping

Without any rain..

The paint is all blistered

On my window pane.

The glory of summer

Is no longer sweet,

As I ask mother nature,

“PLEASE, turn down the heat!



My Dad

by Dolores Fruth


He didn’t have a hearty laugh, a sweet chuckle was his style

He didn’t boost when things were right, you felt it in his smile.

He wasn’t loud or boisterous or bragging ‘bout his life

In gentle ways he showed his love to his daughters and his wife.

He never criticized or scoffed about wrongs he saw in others

He patted them upon their back as if they were his brothers.

My Dad was short in stature but he stood tall ,you see.

This gentle humble man of God meant all the world to me.












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