I can’t fly,
but I can fly a Kite.
slow and gentle through the breeze
or fast and swift directly into a tree.
I see the tail up in a branch
What a short life had my new kite.
No puedo volar,
pero puedo volar un papalote.
Lento y ligero en la brisa,
raudo y veloz contra el árbol.
Alcanzo a ver la cola en una rama.
¡Este papalote, no hadurado nada!
by Mae Ernst Elliot I leaned against the old rail fence and watched the sinking sun, And thought of how many, many suns […]
Clara McCoy James and Jesse Garfield James portrait for their wedding in 1918.
In the new century, 1900, Patrick Kenney’s coal (actually Lignite or “Brown Coal”) was still being hauled by mules and wagon from […]
from Poems to Play/Poemas Para Jugar by Bertha Jacobson from her 2019 book of Bilingual Poems for Children: My brother, dressed in […]
