The red kite wheeled observing us below;
a skillful twitch of tail, a turn, a dive
to keep us in its view. We gathered so
that we might not forget just how you strived.
Your fight? To make your message plain that you
were not the coming saviour that we reckoned
on. From feeding multitudes with food
to handling ‘blind’ religious leaders’ heckling,
you laid out in deeds your Father’s call on
your life to rule by sacrifice not might;
a monarch on a donkey not a stallion
demanding love by deeds instead of right.
The kite joins children crying out in hope
its mewling anthem joins their pericope.

Arriving at church for our Palm Sunday service this morning, I was quite taken by the magnificent red kite flying overhead. Not my best (still trying to get to grips with rhyme), but it will do.
(29.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Avel Chuklanov on Unsplash