FORGOTTEN FLAGS

Thunder threatens, but gently;
the summer night is warm,
and wet from recent rain.
Months have passed
since the cold midwinter days
around Twelfth Night:
the watershed that bids farewell
to Christmas and its colour,
or some would say its artifice.

And the bunting now has faded,
hung wearily across the street;
forgotten for the moment
on this balmy summer night.

The flags, all drained of colour,
barely flutter.
They are no longer noticed,
nor now needed.
Their time may come again
in the continuing cycle
of so-called celebration that
measures out our year.
For now though, come - and gone.

These frail flags are jaded.
The public hanging tells its tale.
Bunting, even faded,
makes its mark,
and leaves a forlorn trail.


February 18th 2015