Hiding in Broad Daylight

When the Bastille Day fireworks go off
I will not wonder why my dog hides from them,
in a narrow space underneath my bed.

I am one of many who rarely finds that safe distance
from the headlines in the national press
that explode everyday over my head,
telling me about stuff about which
I cannot change the course or nature of.

The difference between me and my dog
is that he hides once a year from the fireworks;
I hide everyday I seek to hide in broad daylight.

But within me and outside of me I still seek
to change daily that which really will change.