Where do sunflowers turn after dark?
Bereft of fullness & warmth, they train
aimlessly on the plenitude of stars,
lost in the firmament of illusion.
Is a kite free when it snaps its string?
Freedom feels a lot like random tumble.
Tethered to a deft hand, kites sail aloft.
Decoupled, they float in liberty down.
Do blossoms, as they wither, blame the season?
Or do they think it just another night,
decline ascribed to the absence of light?
And kites, once loose & fluttering down
toward earth, are they ever tempted by
the futile thought of turning back?
***
Davo, for the record, is my Uncle David Lang, whose long career in aeronautics and space engineering has led him to projects which involve tethering, slings and kites.