Fall has come and with it the dryness of north winds.
October can be a busy month for business men,
flying to Chicago, Calgary, LA and back again.
I walk the dog, while my wife prepares for bed.
“Did you pack your medicine,” last words she said.
“Yes.” I replied before walking out the door.
The air is cool and the moon bright above,
slow last moments before sleep comes,
and in the morning, a chaotic rush.
I love the chaos though, TSA and all;
like ships through Panama’s locks,
while carrying on cocky conversations over scotch.
But trips become tiring quickly, out there alone,
the chaos to return can never go fast enough
For the weary business man wanting for home
I look up to a roar, and the dog looks up too.
Close enough almost to touch, a plane flies over,
crashing the night’s silence, a banshee in silver and blue.
I think of my wife, whom I’ll miss tomorrow.
But you won’t see her sorrow or grieving,
Since she can’t stop forgiving me for leaving.
And I know someone on that plane is returning
from a business trip to Paris, New York or Rome,
and I speak to the plane as it’s turning out of sight
Don’t worry sir or madam, you’re almost home tonight
