Kite

Kite

  It comes on slowly, gently at first. Afters years and years, after fears And arrears and tears.   It comes on slowly. And on a day like any other, The wind arrives.   And the kite is airborne.

It’s morning, and Conor Oberst is singing

It’s morning, and Conor Oberst is singing

  Outside it’s autumn, and reds yellows purples and oranges are today’s welcome litter.   Now and again they’re sent into a colourful and spirited dance, perhaps at the behest of Four Winds.   Inside, the contagion of caffeine triumphs as always over the clientele, who bow their heads in prayer to their cellular Gods. […]