Kites

by Kathy M.

Far above the deep dark shadows of the trees
Soaring like the birds, flying
Floating. Limitless
But for the invisible string.
A limitless puppet.
Higher, higher!
He shouts.
On his father’s shoulders
He rides.
The boy is the kite,
The wind is the father,
Pushing and pulling him on;
Over the deep dark shadows of disappointment.
Potential. Pressure. Light the flying flaming lanterns.
I wonder, if the kite had a brain
A mind.
What would happen-
Would it cut itself go
If it knew it was free;
What could it be?
Surely all the kites come down, 
Eventually...
Shouldn’t we set them free?
You might think, 
It’s wrong. Stupid.
But if the kite was free,
What could it be?