Fierce in the sky

My spirit was swung low

like a string hammock
so I lay with it, 
sunken
under the hottest star
to meld or fuse
what it could. 

I opened my eyes 
to the sure, steady mind
of a Red Kite, cutting through 
finger-smudged clouds
and all uncertainty -
an ever-winning coin. 

Under the relentless energy of the Sun
And the set red bend of bone and feather,
one strand pulled taut, alert again.
I thought of poetry;
the beautiful things forever flying fierce:
star stripes, bronze birds, truth -
all these strong lines 
in the sky 
are under my blood;
my tired self
is still singing. 

LJ Ireton, 2024