Kite

by Ernest Hilbert I ran my kite till it gulled at the sun, And from the newfound flight it took Command as much as I, and trained My arm toward the sky, and strained The armature of spreaders, spar, and knock. It threw its silhouette against the sun, Then bowed blue before a berm of cloud, And set itself against a greater blue. It swooped, twisted my wrists, and grew To be too strong, as nervy as a bird Of prey, a winged but featherless Raptor I... Read More