Oh, that I were a well-rigged sail
To, when I saw the grass bow down,
Fill up and race before the wind
To friendly ports, if near or far,
Returning with the waves and tide.

Oh, that my spirit were a kite,
Strings stretching through the cloudless sky
To dance upon my Maker’s breath
And, when he once more comes below,
To gaily meet him in the air.

This poem came to me when I was out mowing the lawn one windy day earlier this week, and the waves the wind made in the grass reminded me of one of the opening scenes of Swallows and Amazons. The image was perhaps also suggested by the kites I saw during an expedition last weekend.

As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems nearly every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with those linked from one of the “archive” installments, since the full archive is by now, at over two hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share it with others, subject to my sharing policy.

This is also archived on my wiki.


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