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| MASTER OF THE KITE
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We can't get the kite to catch the wind.
Maya and I pull the string short
whenever the wind flags,
and the kite drops like a crashing plane.
When we do get it to catch,
Jake wants to hold it.
I hand him the line
and watch him release
the kite higher
and higher.
I'm making it fly! Look.
It's like a butterfly flying!
Jake's face is red and orange sunset.
He soars with distant hawks.
Master of the kite,
how light his string.
He flies away from a world
so thick and heavy, that even the air
slows him down.
The kite string breaks suddenly,
all slack.
We retrieve it from among the shrubs.
Mary calls us back, and we roll it up.
Jake carries it home,
and the whole sky swims under his arm.
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski
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