Watching the kite take off fills me with some stupid joy

Watching it zip across the skyline

Reaching new impossible heights all the while.

 

"No one is used to being this height anymore"

That must be true.

 

Today is a storybook of nostalgia:

 

There was a kite in Haiti

He told us that it was so small that 

when it went into the sky

he could hardly see it

 

He only new it was there by the weight of it as 

he pulled the string in and out.

 

There must have been some trust between him and the kite.

Between the rope and the sky.

 

To go so high, certain the it would be reeled in by

steady hands

 

To stretch so thin across a blue expanse and despite itself,

stretch further