Two Poems by Dave Seter

KITE It happened suddenly. Things sometimes do. The kite we used to fly on Brandywine Hill became a red-on-blue speck. Released. Or snatched by natural forces. I tensed and untensed my hands. You were my first great loss. What did I know about paying out line to reduce the tension? And once you realized total freedom, I became amazed at the distance you covered. Thunderstorms create the same awe in me, no matter how they announce their intentions.


NEW MOON Her eyes will be the blue of the full moon’s craters. She will accept the hollow and the hull. We will float and she will plumb the lake with her gaze. I will await her crazed reflection in the night sky’s glaze. Some depths cannot be measured by silence. Dave Seter