He Lived Up on a Flagpole

He lived up on a flagpole.

He liked it for the view.

It lent him sweet perspective

to see and join the blue

warm sky in Spring.

Except it wasn’t Spring.

The sky was blue but cold.

Not the day, one might well

say, to be flagpoled.

But there he was

and there he’d be:

beautifully adapting

to inconstancy, thick limbs,

all serpentine and gold.

He didn’t mind the cold pole’s

sway. He’d wait for May.

.