It is heavenly to fly
The updraft from the plains throws me up the hillsides
Wins outstretched and motionless,
just a feather or two riffling in the breeze.
I survey my domain
....of stone villages and stubbly harvested fields
....the corn still out there, hoping for another sunny week.
I am lord of all -
....of that mouse - I think I will swoop down for a snack
A string attached to my breast?
I struggle upwards, bursting, but cannot break free
My dives and turns fail to liberate me.
The wind dies and I sink deflated to the ground.
They wrote in the paper:
Hier, et aujourd'hui encore, le ciel au-dessus du Plateau de Gergovie prends toutes les couleurs, avec le XVième Festival du Cerf-volant...
And there you are for the Poetry Bus, riffing off a newspaper article from yesterday's Montagne.
Catch the ride!
the south island
2 hours ago