It tugged and strained against my arm,
An eager thing, alive.
It fluttered in its thrumming frame
To swing, and soar, and strive.
It had to try; it had to flee;
I felt it in my hand.
It had to feel how it would fly
Unburdened of the land.
With scarce a thought - I barely knew -
My hand gave up its grip.
It ceased to cling as it was taught
and let the tether slip.
The creature spun and, like a hawk,
Cut up toward the sky.
Its colours flashed into the sun
And spiraled from my eye.
My feet, it seemed, had risen up,
Just inches from the grass.
I rose within a blinking dream,
and let the moment pass.
Then down I came to earth again,
With nothing in my hand.
The world around was just the same
Where I was left to stand,
Except that I no longer hold
My tether to the sun.
No longer can I pull the sky
Behind me as I run.
But still I see there's something else
To hold that's just as fine,
For like the kite, my hand is free,
Untethered from that line.
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