Flight School
original watercolor hawks
And Yet
my sunflower friends
have taken their bows
their reign at an end
their show closing now
the summer stage crew
is striking the set
takes a minute or two
tearing down all that’s left
a new show’s beginning
cool winds are approaching
autumn’s edgier tone
and pride is encroaching
there’s a sharp dialogue
burnt sienna, scarlet hue
a biting monologue
with a punchline, cobalt blue
i’m watching, looking on
taking in the dry wit
wishing summer’s last song
would linger, just a bit
BB'21
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