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About This Poem
A Rising Son on Christmas
Eternally waiting for the second coming
a mother's heart flutters weakly, slow snow fills the dreary sky
the cars snake hypnotically forward twinkling red and gold lights
the sky is full of travelers hoping for a soft landing mother's heart flutters
slush streaked and faux-fur wet, bedraggled entry to the terminal obtained
terminal, once inside the reality of the name brings clarity to the wait
the stale high rise air twitters with sparrows, I perch as do they and wait
plastic benches hold little Christmas cheer, the blackboard rolls
flight 231 from San Francisco mother's heart flutters DELAYED
Starbucks may be the only star in this evenings sky
french fries grease the tile floor as a small child feeds the birdies
Deck the Halls blares fresh from the can, a longing for cotton balls rises
Soon soon I will see him again, the only egg we'd put in life's basket.
The Black board cycles and flight 231 shows NOW LANDING
a mother's heart flutters scarf and glove in hand the gate exit sought
Like action figures each weary homebound traveler springs
into the waiting arms of Mother or Father or the total gaggle
of loved ones squealing and waving their arms
mother's heart flutters home, home again, my son.
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