Atop the hill, drawn to gaze

upon the pasture's fall and raise.

In the blue, to catch the eye

a group of three now dance the sky.

Like paper caught within a breeze

they rise and drop, harry and tease.

Round and round they circle there

two defenders of the air.

One rides close, thoughts to attack

the other near yet holding back

unconcerned the Kite sails on.

A drifting cloud and they are gone.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this after watching a Red Kite being bothered by two large crows. The Kite was not worried by it all.

View sweetwater's Full Portfolio
deepinyourdreams's picture

Nice write, your "Kite"

Nice write, your "Kite"


sweetwater's picture

Thank you, X

Thank you, X