THE SPRING I LEARNED I HAD A BIRTHDAY

A special day
that Saturday
in early April
when I turned a lad of seven.


The sun was bright
in a clear blue sky,
when toward mid-morning
big brother Frank
stepped in my space
on the large Boys' Playground,
where the pigeon coop
nudged the high east wall
of the orphanage.

Magician-like,
Frank unfurled from his left,
a shield-shaped kite,
flaring the colors
of the American Flag.

And shouting,
"Virgil, it's your birthday!"
he released to the wind the kite.

As the string passed
through his fingers,
the kite flapped wildly in the air;
then rose higher higher,
drawn ever upwards
by the eager gusts
of April wind.

Then handing me the string,
I held it spellbound,
as I watched the kite
dance in the sky.

In moments, the string
to the twig at the end,
slipped through my fingers,
and fast rolled away
along the ground.

At full speed I ran
but could not catch it.
With one final try
I dove but missed it.
Prone on the ground
I watched as the twig
rolled out of sight.

Sadly I watched as my kite
sank backwards,
drifting over the high north wall,
where soon it was caught
in high tree branches.

In the passing of time
I learned the lesson:
Fleeting are the pleasures of life.
Enduring pleasure in God resides.


(April 29, l998)