Dillard SissmanThe buzzards wheel slowlyIn wide circles, in a skyFaintly hazed as from dust from the road.And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lieBeating the grass into long waves.My kite is above the wind,Though now and then it wobbles,Like a man shaking his shoulders;And the tail streams out momentarily,Then sinks to rest.And the buzzards wheel and wheel,Sweeping the zenith with wide circlesAbove my kite. And the hills sleep.And a farm house, white as snow,Peeps from green trees—far away.And I watch my kite,For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,Then she will swing like a pendulum dialTo the tail of my kite.A spurt of flame like a water-dragonDazzles my eyes—I am shaken as a banner!
The buzzards wheel slowlyIn wide circles, in a skyFaintly hazed as from dust from the road.And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lieBeating the grass into long waves.My kite is above the wind,Though now and then it wobbles,Like a man shaking his shoulders;And the tail streams out momentarily,Then sinks to rest.And the buzzards wheel and wheel,Sweeping the zenith with wide circlesAbove my kite. And the hills sleep.And a farm house, white as snow,Peeps from green trees—far away.And I watch my kite,For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,Then she will swing like a pendulum dialTo the tail of my kite.A spurt of flame like a water-dragonDazzles my eyes—I am shaken as a banner!