Crossing

Hours into the flight
Cabin lighting dims.
Their brow on his shoulder,
Wife and son fidget then settle.
Sleep, dream.

His son of a tackle that saves the match.
She of the man she has missed to tears.

He feels their animal breath
Hot across his tightening chest.
Motionless, three as one,
They hurtle through the night-sky.
High above the Atlantic

He cannot sleep.

Travels back half a life-time.
To when they were poor together,
To when they planted the apple-tree,
To the mid-summer hospital room
Where he first held his new-born son
As she smiled from the bed.

The craft gathers itself,
Stills for a moment,
Begins its long descent back to earth.

They stir, wake.
Through the cabin window
They glimpse the pale beginnings
Of lives
They wait eagerly to reclaim.

September 2008