Dillard Sissman

The buzzards wheel slowly         In wide circles, in a sky         Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.         And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie         Beating 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 circles         Above 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 dial         To the tail of my kite.         A spurt of flame like a water-dragon         Dazzles my eyes -         I am shaken as a banner.