On more kite watching
Kites still sky dancing
More a tango than a waltz
red bronze feathers flare
The hills are made invisible by an evening mist.
Against this a kettle of five hawks,
three red kites and two buzzards,
spiral in the diffused golden light,
unhurried, synchronised, perfect.
It is a moment of poetry,
of passion and perfection
that I am privileged to witness.