Kite Calls

she calls
hey-up to the sky
rides the same pattern
swirls to the horizon
sees a cacophony
flutter green feathers
silver shines
she spies for the smallest
unconcerned
about this one walking
below

A yawn
for the morning air.
She follows the same pattern,
breakfast, coffee, kids.
This morning she stops,
hears the cry of the bird
as it curls in the unfurled blue.
By her car silver shining,
she hovers in the air between the seconds.
Whispers a call to the one
flying above.

 

 

 

 

 

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