The Red Kite
I left without expectations,
Now that the verges were mown and made barren,
Yet there he was,
The red kite,
Perched regally on a telegraph pole,
Pale head and rich bronze back.
My spirits lifted.
He watched me approach
Then slid from his perch to slip through the air,
Glide along the hedgerow
And out of sight behind the trees,
Leaving my eyes hungry.
I came across him again
Perched on yet another pole.
There was a majestic serenity in that sleek body.
As he surveyed the land,
He watched me come closer
Then effortlessly lifted into the air,
Soared up into the sky,
Circled and wheeled, before disappearing into the distance.
I watched him go
With a smile on my face.
It was enough to know that he was there.
On the ground, I found a feather.
I do not know if it was his
But I accepted it as a gift.
Opher – 24.7.2020