I once knew a man who made
kites. Sitting in his workshop,
he glued the wooden diamonds
with spit and resin until his wife
called him in for tea. After stitching
on plastic coats and tails, they hung
upside down like bats; waiting until
he went to the hill to release them.
Some flew away whilst others got
caught in tree branches, waiting
for his words to carry them down;
never to fly again.