In the park,
a kite nosediving.
Child crying
as mother strives to 
prevent a crash
that likely will happen
regardless of her hard work.
A red kite straining against
its lead, straight out,
line gone stiff on the wind
as it comes down like
a clock hand being wound
swiftly toward the correct time
as it smashes to earth. Kite
broken, child crying, mother 
now between rattled and relieved
at the cold day outdoors now over
and she can take child home,
sorrowing together: child sobbing,
her trying to explain, sympathy
on full bore; saying they can
put it back together though
she knows they can’t possibly;
the child mollified for now,
not recognizing the scent
of Wite-Out saturating the air.