Kite Over Fotheringhay

It was late afternoon
when I gazed over the churchyard wall
at the river catching the last of the light
as it flowed under the old stone bridge.

The past couple of hours
had seen a succession of dark clouds
scurrying across the sky,
jostling for position in a perverted meteorological beauty competition
to seize the prize for atmospheric malevolence.

[On a Sunday afternoon
viewed from a churchyard,
maybe something about the eternal battle?]

At that moment my gaze was drawn upward –
a kite struggling against the wind
to maintain its position above the segment of meadow
that may yet yield an evening meal.

[Predator or potential prey,
who am I today?]

{Poet’s Note – this is my first offering for National Poetry Writing Month 2014. Only 29 more to go! I wonder what lies ahead…?}



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