What Is That Noise
The wind produced a flapping sound.
I looked from treetops to the ground
but wasn’t able to decide
its origin, though hard I tried.
The wind died down. I read my book
there in my comfy front-porch nook.
When once again the cool breeze stirred,
the loud, distracting sound I heard.
Then from the corner of my eye,
I saw the U. S. flag we fly
so proudly only yards away
at city hall on grand display.
The flapping noise then sounded sweet.
Long may that wind-blown flag compete
with all the other sounds and sights;
it is the one that most delights.
entered in the Strand Completely New Poetry Contest, 5
on July 4, 2020
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