So yesterday was my twelfth wedding anniversary. It has gone remarkably fast, probably because I dearly love my wonderful bride. She is compassionate, gracious, thoughtful, and kind in ways that I can only aspire to. This sonnet was a gift to her yesterday and hopefully it will be a gift to you who read it now.
Our kite hasn’t always been flying so high.
Rough winds and cold rain–too heavy and dark–
have kept it at times from soaring the sky,
have stifled its shining and smothered its spark.
Sometimes there’s no wind. The air feels so stale
that no dashing about will give it a lift.
Its frame feels flimsy, its paper too frail,
its string cut short, yet we know it’s a gift.
The gusts when they come, so fresh and so fair,
lift our kite higher to shine there so strong.
Each piece proven sturdy and lighter than air
We find we’ve been soaring the heights all along.
High winds or no winds our kite will not fall.
Our pilot’s too skillful, he’s Lord of us all.