Fascinating – high in the sky, flying free (with a safety line that might break and then again maybe not) – an exhilarating place to be. A flyer of kites must have faith to let go and toss it into the wind so it can rise to great heights. To know when to reel it…
Tumbled by the ocean through a sea of sand sharp edges begin to break Larger surfaces slowly acquire a brushed satin appearance trapping the light inside and the edges finally wash smooth Not unlike a cherished memory locked in the heart and softened by time
Sitting on the park bench she said, ‘catch me some sparkles to take home in a jar!’ So when we are far from here on a dark and dreary day I can remember this moment – Smell the tide see again the sun dancing on the water.
How far? I ask (is the ocean) whenever we are somewhere the ocean is not – often comes the reply “not far..” (Perhaps a few hour’s or a day’s drive) ‘Not far’ is a distance measured on the scent of a breeze something palpable in the atmosphere in fog rolling across the land ‘Not far’…
Sun’s first rays pick at the blinds teasing them open just a little then its long fingers stretch across the room and tickle my face Outside the world moves in slow motion gulls doze on a diamond sea whose only movement is a ripple as it turns over in its sleep A few birds lazily…
One by one bright colors rise silently into the sky Each evening throughout the summer it is the same: boys and men and their kites drawn to the empty beach A few kites soar and dive recklessly only to crash in the water or lay lifeless on the sand – others seem to strain against…