Mohegan Bluffs

He climbed so high
to fly his kite,
we lost him
in the sweep of clay
formation and persistent fog.
There had been a debate about courage
or wisdom—never any mention
of carving serenity into the rock.

It was just too soon.
What he saw from his perch
would always be his.
What I saw from the beach—
mine. Our mouths still so wide open.
The threat of leaping too real.

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