Day 334- A Piece Of Cloth

I handed my nephew a scrap of cloth and told him : Pretend this piece of cloth is from one of the broken cars; let's see if we can use it somewhere in the junkyard. Maybe we can hang it on a tree?  

He responded almost immediately : I know! We make a kite with it and then have it get stuck in the tree! 

My respect for Nat went up tenfold that day. 

So we made our kite on our 5th Saturday afternoon together. I showed him how to cut little pieces for the tail while I mounted the kite on a T made with tooth pick.

Would you believe I could not tell who's fingers these belonged to just a moment ago? I had to study my nails before I decided it must have been Nat's. Perhaps our hands are starting to look alike? Is that what happens when 2 people have been creating together for a while?

Birth date of Kite 26 May 2012

I will end today's post with a beautiful poem by Lenard Cohen.

A Kite is a Victim

A kite is a victim you are sure of. You love it because it pulls gentle enough to call you master, strong enough to call you fool; because it lives like a desperate trained falcon in the high sweet air, and you can always haul it down to tame it in your drawer. A kite is a fish you have already caught in a pool where no fish come, so you play him carefully and long, and hope he won't give up, or the wind die down. A kite is the last poem you've written, so you give it to the wind, but you don't let it go until someone finds you something else to do. A kite is a contract of glory that must be made with the sun, so you make friends with the field the river and the wind, then you pray the whole cold night before, under the travelling cordless moon, to make you worthy and lyric and pure.

Leonard Cohen