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Father and son and home

There was a Waxing crescent and a Virginian milky blue sky translucence 

While taking my son from 

his home his mom his friends and New York 

And the Worlds Light was too high

 So We settled for streamed ceiling fluorescence 

And enjoyed the trains inner sanctum Incandescence

Strictly Ticket holder acceptance 

Tangled in each other and the trees and the true Virginian dark and the southern pull to his new home

And man, the way his eyes shone

At The prospect of a moving breakfast 

Shiny eggs and bacon and seemingly mountainous orange juice while trees flower laced train tracks grazing cattle and farm workers and a sky in its most royal attire: sprinkled with cumulus regalia,  blew past our car and we blew past them 

And when the train came to an unexpected halt in the deeply darkened woods of South Carolina 

And only little strips of his tiny face showed from scattered light 

And his thick black hair melded with the dark and although barely visible, swayed left then right then left then right then left then right  in quick movements under the humming ventilation system 

And his now dark iPad screen showed me my own face barely visible but content

I could see myself and a mother among us quietly answering our children’s silent words in smiles 

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