poem ode to blue hill
 

My wind vane points east, the flag is flying straight
Coco nut fronds dance in the breeze
Time to bail to unleash the beast
Pack the car my sons stashed my keys
Tides coming up
Sweaty palms and a sore lower back (getting old feeling young)
Set up to ride
I'm off like a prom dress the wind whispering through the casuarinas trees
It’s cross shore
I' the only one out
That’s ok I ride for me , not to impress others
The sound of water slurping under my board
the wind steady out of the east 18 to 20 whistles through my kite lines
As I set up for my first jump
Power in my hand weight and will against the kites mass
Power transmitted through the kites fabric causing lift
WAHOOOOOOOOO I can fly
At that moment of love nothing seems to exist except for here and now
It’s a selfish sport (my wife says)
I love to ride the wind and it has consumed me but I am just one of many.
A growing cult of wind worshipers.
The wind has no face just direction and strength
No wars will be won or lost over the wind
Just personal triumphs
Take nothing but photos leave nothing but wake.