Storm clouds were building,
enormous towers of foreboding,
blocking direct sunlight, while the mist sparkled in the air.
Fields in Paradise Park were harsh green;
rays cutting through the vapor,
rainbows vanishing to reappear.
Kite flyers flew their colorful diamonds against the thunderous backdrop,
electricity in the air,
with their black trench coats billowing behind them.
Children ran through the fields with daisies in their hair,
as I walked into the tall grass and lay down.
I was invisible there, with a good book, staring into the afternoon sky that looked like it might suck me up into the churning storm.
My imagination poured across the pages,
as wolves chased cats in the clouds above.
I was awake and dreaming in the wild grass, blowing, like the sky didn’t know where it wanted to go.
That’s when I saw it, a flyer moving across the sky, like its kite was a balloon, taking it beyond the storm.
After it vanished
I stared at the other flyers
while one turned its head towards me.
“Excuse me, but did you see that flyer sucked into the atmosphere?” I asked.
Its face belonged to a bird, its hands were talons, clutching a spindle of string,
a lifeline that might pull it into another world.
“Fly a kite,” it said. “See where it takes you.”
It passed the string to me and in that moment, I allowed myself to be swept up by the wind,
waving goodbye, to my roots on the ground,
choosing the storm and sound,
adventures striking at random,
never hitting the same place twice.