As letter-winged,
As the little kite
posted in wind.
For forty winds,
here was our
three-moon home.
A stacked basket
of gumsticks high
in a messmate tree
till eggs chicked &
fledged off as they
sprung the twig
then the keeper blew
the parents another
stretch of canvas.
When winter storms
shed their old basket-
nest from the branch
each twig stayed put,
tension-sprung as a kite
frame or an aero wing.
The woven vessel
of our true emigration
is not unravelled.
18 June 2004 © Wayne David Knoll
The Cascades, Burleigh/Monbulk, Victoria
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