Kite Poem

by Joyce Carol Oates

Some-

thing there

is in the American

soul that soars with

kites that soar! Some-

thing alive with the roar

of the wind lifting the kite

that soars above rooftops, tree-

tops, and awestruck heads! And yet—

Something there is not in the

American soul to adore the

kite that fails to soar.

I've seen it, I've

feared it, and

so have you.

The kite whose tail

is tattered in the

TV antenna.

The kite that rises

thrillingly

at dawn

then crashes

vertically

at your feet.

in a

heap.

(All I know is that our souls certainly soar with kites! No matter the end result, the experience is always worth it to us!)