Two Poems by Dave Seter
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.
will be the blue
of the full moon’s craters.
She will accept
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.
cannot be measured