kites

May 2018

 

The sound of the gale woke them up

before dawn

warm bunk beds behind they tiptoed through the darkness

across the hallway downstairs through the kitchen of the old, old house

back where they picked their rubber boots

and two kites made with bamboo splinters

see-thru coloured paper string and old socks for tails

out the backdoor in silence they stood outside the old, old house

half asleep half in awe

against the gale they  lifted their kites and saw them soar and plunge and snap their strings and disappear

as dawn broke

 

Jorge Mejia Hernandez