July drips - 22 to 31



The breeze’s banners flutter bright and colorful against the green of trees. Olympians are heralded. Spectators loudly scream. Inspire a generation colored gold for victory.

Proclaiming city, year and date, there is no pity in this fate. The runner runs and cyclist rides while glorious countryside looks on. Everyone wins.

A bike of flowers adorns the roundabout. Cyclists fly past on wild mercurial heels. Glorious power is shown about this city, praising wild Olympic dreams.

They’ve built a fortress, built a wave, built magic, built a dream. They’ve cheered the athletes, watched their flags wave high. They’ve built a fire.

Winners just to be there. Victors just to see the crown. Champions play the melody. And future medalists set sparks to light the Olympic flame.

See the towers of history, the fields of long-gone battles, shores where conquering heroes stood. Hear the cheers of victory’s parade, long-gone, renewed again today.

When soccer balls and beach balls, volley balls, replace the cannon balls of war, then nations sing a different triumph, victory and unboundedness  of sports.

Like seedling rising from the earth, like slender branches reaching up to sky, his tall bird flies, this diver like a seal beneath the water.

Make a table, nations tell who’s winning, who’s been felled by foul finances. Make a table of the athlete’s names, each hope belongs to all.

Superheroes they’re proclaimed, the ones whose bodies long betrayed, who win despite the soaring pain, the ones who stay behind. We watch them win again.

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