On certain days there is so much joy to be had in surrendering to the glory of the sky.
The kite talks. It sings. It is in danger of blurting out the secrets of happiness. We strain our ears, trying to catch its whispers, its murmurings; trying to distinguish between the swoosh of its silken body and the gentle call of the wind.
We give up. We may never know. But we like to think that the sky holds the answer to everything.