The Diamond Kite

author’s note:

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody but I will tell you.
            -- Walt Whitman


THE DIAMOND KITE

Yesterday, when I saw the kite
I saw myself

sleeping in a park clearing
--no tail, no string--
just thin orange paper breathing
in a flimsy wooden frame

until woken abruptly by a gust--
twirled straight up--
up above the maple trees

then held--suspended:
burning golden in the sun
for an operatic moment.

But soon the magic went "poof"
and the kite spiraled down
to land softly on the lawn--

the diamond eagle: a ground bird
once again.

I know how it feels

to be suddenly lifted
by some invisible hand--
held aloft

only to be set down
in the next breath.

A short vacation
yet long enough
for me to know the wonder
of being a diamond kite

and so, ever since
I've wanted that height
as a permanent residence

and have worked to build
string and tail.

But after so many years
and so much effort, I fear
my kite dream may only be
a pipe dream.

Nevertheless...

when I saw that kite aloft
I could not deny my desire
to lift myself up
to my diamond height.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook