Some joys arrive on strings of painted light,
and dare the frozen world to start again,
they stitch the sky with laughter, sharp and bright,
then tug at sleepy dreams like old friends.
A kite knows nothing of the weight we carry,
it only learns the language of the wind,
how wanting turns to flight, how hands can marry
the wild blue hush where hope has always been.
It dips, it swerves, it dances like a dare,
a ribboned spell above the slate-gray sea,
and for a while, you breathe a different air,
as if your heart could lift as easily.
So let it climb, that bright defiant view…
the Shore looks up, and sky belongs to you. 🪁🌊❄️