My son flies his kite in the pasture
while I jump from bog hump to hump
chasing the tail of the flying paper shape.
Wind the string in; reel it out--
releasing the triangular bird
into layers of breeze.
I show him about playing the wind--
dancing our feet, fingering a lofty tug
from the upwardly dashing kite.
There's no cutting the line
when a child flies a kite--
no letting go.
He has me help in the chase.
I run back with the stay,
preventing the kite's dive down to earth.
I show my son how the working of line,
the playing with draft
is a fine use of higher spaces.
Mary Belardi Erickson, Minnesota, USA
2 comments:
Mary Belardi Erickson lives in rural Kerkhoven, Minnesota, USA. Almost all of her poetry includes nature, and some poems express or suggest environmental concerns. Recent or forthcoming publications are both online or in print: Farming Magazine: People, Land, and Community, Flutter Poetry Journal,The Aurorean, Numinous: Spiritual Poetry, Oak Bend Review, Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poems, and others.
Time well spent is with a child outside exploring how things like a kite can be flown and that precious memory he/ she will pocket for eternity. Well written. Have a nice night.
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