Viewing the concourse
From cold steel rafters,
Flitting and flying,
Filling the airport with song.
Zipping to empty tables,
Quickly.
Nesting hidden corners with
napkin bits and straw wrappers.
Singing outdoor songs, indoors.
Chirping a starling’s song.
Calling the terminal home,
Like a bad Tom Hank’s movie.
Your body bulges with
Droppings from Paradise Bakery.
Cracker crumbs,
Salad bits,
Scraps of bread,
You’re dancing a hiphop
Around each tasty morsel.
Almost unnoticed, you fly,
Hearing giggles and seeing pointing fingers
Of two young sisters
Waiting for their turn to fly.
You would fly free too…
If it weren’t for that damn glass!
But for now,
airport living is the life!
I wrote this today while sitting in the Denver airport, waiting to leave for IRA in Chicago. Amazing little creatures, those airport birds... poetic, but a bit annoying as well!
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