Wind on harbor - on the wing,
a diamond, apple red,
darts and twirls beyond the string
I guide above my head.
Before a line unwound she flees.
Kite’s climb becomes a swoop.
A shift in rhythm of the breeze;
she makes a crazy loop.
I follow at a steady pace
beneath Kite’s streaming tail
as rising up, she starts to chase
A boat with billowed sail.
The sun behind her slides and casts
a crimson light. She glows!
She soars with gulls, pursuing masts,
But then abruptly slows!
Now wind blows cold, and bright bold Kite,
who fancied herself free,
forgot who held the string - and flight
curtailed - draws near to me.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010