wind
It's getting cold with gusty winds sweeping through the windows. The peach curtains ballooned like the bloated bulge of a hungry oaf. The same wind that freezed my knuckles whirled 1000 kilometres away to perhaps this place:
Lovely sight yea? Much as I tried, I've never figured out how to fly a kite. I flew my kite indoors under a mighty fan spinning at full speed. My kite jolted at the charged up velocity of the man-made fan and wandered around the living room. Peeking behind the shelves, playing boo with the mirrors, lingering at the french door overlooking the garden. The little kite swayed to the rhythmic whispers of the rustling leaves. It didn't belong in here with the artificial wind and dead furniture but out there.
Like a captured wild falcon, the kite lost its energy and laid in a crumpled heap on the floor. I put the kite away and did not play with it again.
I've loved the motion and energy in the body of a kite as it soars. Had I set it free, it would have danced with the wind and flown high and far.
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