Like pennants in the wind

I'm sorting and packing. I will be away for only 5 days, so why do I need so much stuff? I probably need no more if I go for a month. Excitement is rising, although the weather forecast is not good. Warmer clothes are being added to the suitcase.
I walked to the other end of the village, hoping to see Liz, who had a foot operation a couple of weeks ago. There was no answer, so I continued around the block for a couple of miles. Arth was grumbling but quietened down on the way home.
There is a lovely mixed hedgerow on the walk up to Lincoln Hill. It is yet to be trimmed for the autumn so there are vertical flexible branches waving in the breeze. It was nippy and very windy. They reminded me of flags.
That led me to this poem by John Agard. It turns out to be on the GCSE English syllabus.
Flag 
What's that fluttering in a breeze?
It's just a piece of cloth
that brings a nation to its knees.


What's that unfurling from a pole?
It's just a piece of cloth
that makes the guts of men grow bold.


What's that rising over a tent?
It's just a piece of cloth
that dares the coward to relent.


What's that flying across a field?
It's just a piece of cloth
that will outlive the blood you bleed.


How can I possess such a cloth?
Just ask for a flag, my friend.
Then blind your conscience to the end.