I need nothing more today
than a bit of string—not
to hold things together, no,
but to wrap around my wrist
and touch each time I need
to remember to be kind.
Which is all day. The trick
is remembering to touch it,
remembering the invitation
to choose what is kind.
A fierce wind blows.
All day, I imagine I am kite,
that I am the one who holds
it on a slender string,
the one who eventually lets it go.