Kite Festival (Gujarat)

​

Sleeping gods awaken from a six-month slumber.

 

The year has circled round; harvest is approaching

in Gujarat. The sky rejoices with sculptured kites

and giant banners, floating above like magic carpets.

 

Along the riverbanks, people gape at gaudy aircraft,

tethered to the humdrum earth by wavy lines of color.

 

A glittery prism – scarlet, pumpkin, chartreuse,

turquoise, violet – forms in the arcing firmament.

 

On the city’s whitewashed rooftops, trumpets shout,

as glass-embedded strings lunge like talons at rivals,

hunting sweet revenge, or a feverish sense of victory.

 

Like mythical creatures, fluorescent firebirds

soar into writhing shapes, sending wishes aloft.

 

As the sky darkens, box kites lit with candles

streak to heaven like a spray of shooting stars.

 

Yet these man-made contraptions lack true wings,

and natural flying (like birds or insects) stays elusive.

 

Our eyes look upward, our thoughts remain below.

 

Alison Jennings is a Seattle-based poet who returned to poetry after teaching in public schools. She has had close to 60 poems published internationally and has won third place or honorable mention in several contests.

​

​

​

​