* I often sit and wish that I
Could be a kite up in the sky,
And ride upon the breeze and go
Whichever way I chanced to blow.
All the other Seasons
added up together
never can compare
with kite flying weather!
Like a bird skimming
across the blue sky
my kite travels swiftly
beautiful and high!
The cord often runs
stinging through my hand,
as my bird soars higher
higher o’er the land
But all too soon twilight
lowers on the town,
and I must haul my bird
down, down, down!
* One little kite in the sky so blue,
Along came another then there were two,
Two little kites flying high above me,
Along came another , then there were three,
Three little kites, just watch how they soar,
Along came another, then there were four,
Four little kites, so high and alive,
Along came another, then there were five.
Five little kites dancing ‘cross the sky,
What a sight to see, way up so high!
* Come fly a kite
And watch it sail
Across the sky,
Waving its tail!
Kite, kite, soaring high,
Reaching, reaching to the sky
First you’re high then you’re low,
Swooping, swirling, round you go,
Kite, kite, fine and free,
Dancing, dancing, just for me.
* A kite, a sky, and a good firm breeze
And acres of ground away from trees.
And one hundred yards of clean, strong
O boy, O boy! I call that Spring!
upon the sky.
Take the string
above the park.
Tug and buck
with the wind.
Touch a cloud,
Follow the wild geese
in their flight.
* In March, kites bite the wind
and shake their paper scales.
They strain against their fiber chains
to free their dragon tails.
Come back, come back, my runaway kite!
Come back and play with me!
I'm riding and gliding on whirl-away winds.
I'm going somewhere. Can't you see?
Where are you going my beautiful kite,
flying so high in the sky?
I'm going to visit the lost balloons
that made little children cry.
When I hold your string, oh my magical kite,
why do I feel the wind in my hand?
The wind is a taste of the sky, my young friend,
that I gave to a child of the land.
If I were a kite
stretch my skinny arms
and wait for wind.
My yellow shirt would
fill up like a sail
tugging my criss-crossed
wooden bones and me
towards seas of cloud.
My rippling paper skin
would rustle like applause
as I inhaled,
gulping one last gust
to swoop me giddy-quick
above the trees.
My red rag tail
toward everything green
to balance me
so all day
loop and climb
loop and climb
into pure sky.
On many spring days I wish that I
Could be a kite flying in the sky.
I would climb high toward the sun
And chase the clouds. Oh, what fun!
Whichever way the wind chanced to blow
Is the way that I would go.
I'd fly up, up, up. I'd fly down, down, down.
Then I'd spin round and round and round.
Finally I'd float softly to the ground.
The March wind is calling,
"Come fly your kite!"
The wind is blowing
With all its might.
The kites are tossing
In the sky.
The wind is calling,
"Come fly up high."