I try to hoist the Union Jack
By sunrise,
And lower it by sunset.
I am not always faithful
To the former.
This morning, I was slow to the mark.
The sun was fully risen
In the East.
The colours caught the sun
Part way up the mast.
However, my chagrin was overtaken
By the antics of my cat/kitten,
Black as the disappeared night
With one white mitten.
I call him Paw.
So I went over to see
What was what.
He was huddled over
A folded Monarch butterfly,
Getting warmth from
The flag stones,
And much the worse
For wear.
It stood firm on its feet,
And stayed upright when the wind
Ruffled its wings.
Paw sniffed around, but kept
A respectful distance.
The smell of Death,
I suppose.
Still,
That Monarch has lasted out
The day,
And might still be present
When It is time to
Lower the flag
For the night.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
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