Kites

2-22(?)-96


A caressing breeze of summer warmth
Rustles across my ears and face.
Below, a worn old man peddles a worn red bike
Across the sun soaked cobbles.
Sun-browned children, feet bare in the soil, play
As the kites twist in the breeze,
Tails languid and sinuous.

Ahail do Cabo, 1996


Index | Banshee
Duplication Forbidden.