The kite rises up, up
and away
the string runs through his
fingers, it scratches at the
skin
his eyes follow the orange
plastic body,
fluttering in the sky
measures the wind
watches the kite and the wind.
© Richard L. Provencher
First published Spring 1985 VOL 9, NR 1
Parnassus Literary Journal
Forest Park, GA 1SSN: 0748-8785
