Drumming
That distinctive slap
Slap slap slapping
Whipping itself
Driven madly by the hastiest bluster
13 stripes
    Red
    White
Shouldering the deepest blue
Emblazoned 13 to 50 scepters of courage
Symbolize so much
    Great and Nobel
    Shameful and tragic
All fading intents

Look
(If you will)

Its Glory
is old

Aged

What was done to feed it's vitality
We ridicule its wheeze
Bewildered aghast at its gasp
Which we accepted
And complacently encourage

It shakily stands

Driven in these winds

Clutched in the white-knuckled remains

Of its creation slipping away
 

No longer facing headlong these winds
Collar up
Turned away
Waving to the passing
And the past

Good-bye

 

No greater loss will human-kind ever wrought

June 14, 1995