[
{
"name": "Top Stories Video Pair",
"insertPoint": "7",
"component": "17087298",
"parentWrapperClass": "fdn-ads-inline-content-block",
"requiredCountToDisplay": "1"
}
]
On the plane, Next to me; Her book is Arabic, while The big fellow in front; Tattoos all over, hugs his daughter, Whispering thoughts, To her demurred, shy smile lighting The seats where we sit next To an old man from China going To see his son after some twenty years: Typing Chinese characters into his phone.
Yes, the rain is an irony here, Coming quick and ferocious Unlike the dampness of home Where we light fires And brew soups to convene The solace of evenings.
Gosh I love all you people, And want nothing more than To disappear into those far mountains: Out there.
For just a day, I'll watch the water, Rush down, So I can be one of you.
Sam A. Flanagan
