Three thousand and one ...

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While still dark, I paid tribute much earlier today, in the morning. At one of three grounds here in the Southland, made hallow. By having an altar of steel. W.T.C. steel. I looked in the garden, before I left. And all the roses were just molten shriveled blobs. Rendered useless, by the week of triple digits Fahrenheit. I coulda stopped, on the way. But chose simply to take a small flag with me, as a token offering. When I arrived, the sun still not oer the land. But there, in the gathering light, already were ... three thousand flags.