An Evening At Logan Airport

An Evening at Logan

relieved of its
obligations,
the sun ran
from the night,
melting into a
mountain.
the last
of the boats
was now
tucked in
and sleeping
to the swaying
lullaby of the
lilting waves.
the houses,
each in turn,
lit their candles
like some
mysterious vigil
in the hills,
and there
in the distance,
just over
the shoulder
of the moon,
I could see
the pin-holes
in the night
growing like fires
from the black,
longing, wanting,
hoping,
if only this
once more,
to see their
homes again.