Guest Poet Ann DeVenezia
Some errant knight has lost his banners,
now tangled high in the tall, oak tree:
orange, green and red triangular flags.
They float heralding I know not why:
cars for sale, grand opening on the highway,
harvest festival, neighbor's midnight party.
Merry pennants fly to a medieval breeze,
jousting on their long, string tether,
till a strong wind will pull them loose.
But one year later, they are still there;
they sag, like limp symbols of some disease
that has visited the young couple next door.
I search through the leaves, find the faded colors,
wanting to climb and pull them down before their time.
With this exchange I will bury them in the ground.
Ann DeVenezia's questions:
1. Is there too much mystery?
2. What do you think is the main message?
3. Can you picture the plastic pennants?
4. Thank you for your feedback.
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