Heathrow, in transit

Written by: James Watters

The warmth of Nairobi in January is gone now.
Here it's cold and drizzly, a savannah 
of tarmac and metal jumbos before me.  
My natural rhythms have given way
to this soaring erratic chase of the sun.
But I return to warmth—the desert heat
of southern Arizona, and the ardent glow
of my heart when I hold you in my arms.