Was it me?
Crouching rubber hipped
The plane delayed by fifteen hours
Mother’s placating screaming kids
Dry eyed travelers, bent over wilted luggage
Back then I didn’t know 
Rubber can stiffen
I thought
I’d be in supline pose with windows open, aubergine clouds, seeing hope
In hot tarmac with planes, belly full, lifting off
Taking longing to new places 
Is it wrong to tell you?
Twenty years hence, as we fumble to claim waivering identity
That I was more sure then
Crouched, rubber hipped
Than ever since, watching planes taxi in
Spent and decorate with exotic scents
It doesn’t feel lonely if you watch how the world talks
Without humans
Hear the russle of late afternoon
A breeze from far flung continent, chiming in minds eye
Awareness of being, nourishment of movement
Peace wrapping around my shoulder
Just then, conscious
Of the infinite fragility and gratitude
To rise and take, moment to appreciate
Our small place, in this wide place
As alone we are, part of something
Far greater than our impatient wait
For obvious things