Night shortened by an eastbound flight,
sun comes out in Boston,
more time to wait

Little birds live in airports,
so it seems, and others hop around outside  –
strange habitat, overarching concrete
and some landscape trees

As for me, I’ve watched and smiled,
listened, slept, written, cried,
and, not having traveled in some years,
am doing fine

Who knows about this thing called life?
Who knows? Or time, for that matter  –
our purpose flows somewhere deeper
than the place these tokens mark,
still rich and powerful
to pull us swift along.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 17, 2022