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38.ThePlace ofPassingThrough
1:00 a.m. in the morning,
At an airport terminal,
This city's migratory bird has not yet
returned.
The wind swallowed the darkness as though
impounding it.
People come busily and go away with quick
paces.
Where are they going?
Nobody pays any attention to me.
I am a stranger here.
Though a chilled and cold air wind round my
waist.
There is a welcoming hand signaling for those
who are waiting
That melts my heart with blessed hope.
* As I was passing through the Minneapolis airport.
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