The Kite
 

Out in the desert, all is quiet in the early morning.
 

The sun hangs upon the horizon with indecision,
 

Seemingly struck with the notion of remaining to observe,
 

Forever perched upon the lip of this dusty desert world.
 

Shadows are lengthened purple wraiths, yet vague promise
 

Permeates the uncertainty of a new day, a new dawn,
 

With renewal and resurgent thirst for life.
 

High above the tawny sands, the endless ranks of dunes
 

That march like some great soporific silicon army;
 

Pursuing an unseen and distant perimeter of the spirit,
 

The azure of the sky descends from utter cobalt depths
 

To cast a solar aura upon a single kite with wings outstretched.
 

Soaring in endless spirals upon the cool hush of stillness,
 

it is searching for a trace of warmly rising thermal currents.
 

The kite has been on wing for many weary hours,
 

Riding out the thickened columns of neutral desert air
 

As it seeks undaunted the invisible upwellings that will
 

Bear it higher into the full glory of its elemental nature.
 

Watching this tableaux, the ponderous and still undecided sun,
 

Appears to linger on the verge, holding back its solar beams
 

As if enjoying the spectacle of the kite's laboring efforts.
 

But then, subject to the unquestionable intention
 

Of some universal, willful spirit that even stars must obey,
 

The sun allows its rays to chase the remaining shadows of night
 

Back into their caves of refuge deep within the embarrassed earth.
 

Instantly the towers of air heat up, throwing raw Brownian energy
 

into the massive ocean of fragrant heated air the kite has discovered,
 

And with pinions spread, it wheels to meet the freshened Eastern wind.
 

The desert fastness of that raptor’s aerie stretches on forever;
 

I fancy I am the falcon that searches for those elusive thermal currents.
 

You are the lifting energy of the graceful, warming radiance of solar heat
 

That inspires my instinctive flight toward the dazzling
 

Illumination of your sun-like spirit’s fatal essence.
 

The endless desert dance of love and death begins.