Tired of all the silly bunting
and garish flapping flags a-waving
unfriendily in these wicked winds
where unnecessary wars are
waged for all their jingoistic
provocating
I set my stall beneath a string
of fluttering leaves,
A table spread with mother's
bright white table cloth,
reserved for special days
like this
I'll kiss the air to all
who pass and smile to those
who read my words
and do not overlay my thoughts
with unconscionable hate
I'll wait
Until the rain begins
then quietly go and pack my things
and bid retreat until
the flags that fly are clear
and over-writ with prayers
of peace.
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