Kite Weather
Nothing is quite so
open arms
as the clear hello
of not a cloud
in the sky,
a Saturday
like the running start
of March.
Winds are brisk
and bring the best
out of flannel,
it is in the air,
the inside out
of blooms, the birds
and bees of it all,
small stuff giving
way to little things,
the spring in the steps
of a man walks his dog
contradicts the snow
of their hair,
a tug of leash
in both directions
is plenty of string to go
though neither seems able
to answer the question
of who’s flying who.
by Charles Carr
Twitter: @selfrisinmojo
Editor’s Note: The delightful personification that opens this poem leads the reader on a brisk walk into a bright spring day.
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