At some time we all have to wait in an airport, for an arrival, or to go somewhere special. We become members of line-ups, check points, controls … spend time gazing into space, day dreaming, frustrated, or accustomed …
ATTENTION SPAN
she stares into a tunnel of space 
while leaning on a luggage cart
just one of the crowd
at the airport ticket counter
we wait bored
tickets clasped for efficiency
passport in pocket
anticipation on hold
for the machine that will lift
into cloud and take us
where she is going
first published in Ken*Again
A Bedroom of Searchlights’: poetry. This collection draws a picture of the poet’s divorced mother, an artist with two children, who struggled with poverty, war, and the realities of daily life, yet still found beauty and comfort in her garden, and her art.
1960willowtree 