July 29: Lovely Evening, Phil Legler, "Kite Weather"

It is a beautiful evening.  Not too hot.  Not too cold.  It's not a July evening, even though it is still July.  It's a late August or early September evening, so pleasant it makes me want to start walking and keep walking.  Down the road.  Up the hill.  Into the woods.  Past a lake.  And on and on and on.  That's the kind of evening it is.  It takes me out of myself.

That's what tonight's poem is about, as well.  It's about being transported.  Seeing the bigger picture.

Saint Marty could use a lot more evenings like this.

Kite Weather

by:  Phil Legler

Rattled, thrown
down against
the schoolyard fence, we
catch our breath,
held by so thin a
string.  Freed, we
resist the
air, keeping
both feet on the ground
that's turned to
sudden flowers, grass.
The yellow
willow grows
from a blue
sky, and we rise from
ourselves like
dreams, float above streets
and walk roofs,
loosen our
ties, drift high
taking up the slack,
stand tiptoe
hardly aware of
other spring
signs, having
forgotten
the far downward swoop
lost at the
end of the block, the
trees rising.

That's me, in the sky, rising