Icarus

across the sky, returning mildly
to earth on the end of a string.
Madly running, she catches the wind,
rises aloft. She holds the twine
to her ear to hear the wind sing.
A grandfather. Smiling slightly,
weathered hands grip his own string tightly
hovering steadily in the sky,
teaching her to hear the wind sing,
watching her swoop. He is remembering
the giddy new thrill of first learning to fly.