Saturday, April 18, 2015

first kite

swirling storm gusts
and you race
between us
in your little rubber 
boots across the field
thin white line into the sky
crappy plastic kite
collapsing upon itself
with each blast of wind

but it flies and you cackle 
running wide loops 

above the thin flat bird
with the streaming blue tail
two hawks circle

above our laughter
but not our love




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