Kiting (edited)

[Brownlie]

Kiting

In Bonnie Brae a field is split by kills -- kills? Some dutch word for rivers or something?
and hedged by thickets on the southern side, -- Two prepositions. Could potentially say thicket hedged or something if you want.
a vagrant patch of long untended graves -- Could potentially replace long untended with a descriptor. Like disintegrating or crumbling or something else.
and then the woods, too thick to let light pass. -- Could probably reduce word count to say a similar thing.

On a clear day with wind just true enough
to fill a sail or launch a skiff we gathered - Do you need fill a sail and launch a skiff? Who says skiff? Natty bumppo? I suppose it fits in with the kills.
a score of us to test our skills at flying 
kites as if we happened there by chance. -- Doesn't happened there already imply chance?
The dance began as I unfurled my partner  -
a hand-painted red komodo dragon
with double wires and a twenty-five foot tail.

I slowly let her up and gave her reign
then deftly pulled her aft to paint the sky
then took two hours teaching her to roll
and slowly build to form a somersault.

Then sometime after noon we traded places -- is it sometime or some time. idk.
and I was high above and breaching clouds -
a just-fledged falcon drunk on swoops and dives,
I spun and dipped held only by my line.

But fickle kites don’t have the nerve for kiting
as men don’t have the buoyancy to fly
so who’s to say whose fault, the bridle buckled,
the guy wire snapped, I keeled and then I tumbled
back home, my body broke against the ground.

Previous version:

Kiting

In Bonniebrae a field is split by kills
and hedged by thickets on the southern side,
a vagrant patch of long untended graves
and then the darkest forest man has known.

On a Spring day with wind just strong enough
to bloom a sail and launch a skiff we gathered -

a score of us to test our skills at flying
kites like fauns might dance a mating dance.
I brought the finest kite you’ll ever see -
a hand-painted red komodo dragon
with double wires and a twenty-five foot tail.

I slowly let her up and gave her reign
then deftly pulled her aft to paint the sky.
I spent two hours teaching her to roll
and slowly build to form a somersault.

Then sometime after noon we traded places
and I was high above and breeching clouds -
a just-fledged falcon drunk on swoops and dives,
I spun and dipped held only by my line.

But fickle kites don’t have the nerve for kiting
as men don’t have the buoyancy to fly
so who’s to say whose fault, the bridle buckled,
the guy wire snapped, I keeled and then I tumbled
back home, my body broke against the ground.

Pretty cool. Not sure if you really need to do anything to it. Like the kites/ delusional highs (maybe some lovin' in there?) whatnot.