After 'L'Aquilone' by Giovanni Pascoli (1855-1912) <br /> <br />Air from another life and time and place, <br />Pale blue heavenly air is supporting <br />A white wing beating high against the breeze, <br /> <br />And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon <br />All of us there trooped out <br />Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn, <br /> <br />I take my stand again, halt opposite <br />Anahorish Hill to scan the blue, <br />Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet. <br /> <br />And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew, <br />Lifts itself, goes with the wind until <br />It rises to loud cheers from us below. <br /> <br />Rises, and my hand is like a spindle <br />Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower <br />Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher <br /> <br />The longing in the breast and planted feet <br />And gazing face and heart of the kite flier <br />Until string breaks and—separate, elate— <br /> <br />The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.<br /><br />Seamus Heaney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-kite-for-aibh-n/
