This sum­mer, Rose and I went to Bre­it­en­bush Hot Springs.  There was a man there fly­ing a kite in vir­tu­ally no wind and sur­rounded by trees and branches.  By sur­rounded I mean that he was fly­ing a kite in the trees.  The was a lit­tle open­ing, where the walk­way went, but not much.  So there he is at a calm dusk among the trees pulling on the string of the kite and cre­at­ing lift by his own move­ment.  It was all back­wards and it was beau­ti­ful.  He became the wind for his kite and the kite ducked and winked and luffed and sailed for him.  He and the kite were danc­ing.  I am not going to wax philo­soph­i­cal on this.  It was just so cool and won­der­ful and point­less; and it was art.

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One Response to Kite

  1. Bobbi says:

    The first gift I ever received from my husband was a kite. He couldn’t have known that as a child one of my very favourite things was kite flying no matter how unkind the conditions. I always say the kite as a sign that he was the one for me. Thanks for the kite story…


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