Of Kites and Clouds and Childhood Dreams

When the string reached

The yellow mark

On the stick

I tied it off, then

Jammed the stick into the ground

Sat in the tall grass

Of the big field

And watched my kite soar

It seemed as high as the clouds

But I knew it wasn’t

Though it appeared so small

That far up in the sky

The wind blew through the grass

On the sloped hill in the distance

Changed its color through shades of green

The way velvet changes

When you run your hand over it.

As little wisps of sound

Drifted from cars passing

On the road

Near the field

The clouds above bloomed from inside

Like the mushroom cloud

Of a nuclear bomb

But they grew no larger

Though exploding from within

The cloud bank in the distance

Reached the horizon and

If I squinted and looked at it

In just the right way

It flipped and became distant hills

A path to climb into the mountains

I wanted to walk up that hill of clouds

Reach the gods who ruled from above

But the illusion vanished when I looked away

My kite began to swerve

And swoop in the wind

So, I reeled it in then lay back

In the grass, in the warm sun

And watched the clouds explode

Towers of white

Without end

~ ~ ~

This was originally posted on Medium.

Thank you for reading this short piece and I hope you enjoyed it. I have other stories and poetry written and more to write, along with my thoughts on issues of the day, spirituality, religion, politics, and more. You can subscribe to Vocal using my link and see all new work as I publish it and you can also read the thoughts, stories, and viewpoints shared by thousands of writers. And part of the money from every membership helps us all continue to publish and share our work.

I can also be found on Medium, Simily, Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.

I hope you enjoy my work, and a small tip will help me to continue writing.