Shriek of blue jays
and a good ole American crow
woke me on Labor Day
dropping the flag on next season.
I could cry.
It’s just too fast,
the passing of plays. Just unfair,
half-time of my half-century
arriving as I still resist adjusting.
Not ready yet for cheerleaders,
courting by a chorus of crows.

Flash 55 in the Imaginary Garden!