Poem: my kite soars


sand blasts my skin
waves whip the shores
my hair is in my face
but how my kite soars

About the poem:
We took a walk at McIntosh Lake today. Blustery day would be an understatement. But heck yeah, what a perfect morning for kite flying. I tried again with a young friend this afternoon and nothing. Just light gusts now and then.

How often we take a situation and deem it terrible, then realize it’s perfect …for something else. Maybe something beyond our imagination and much better.

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