737 destined for Minneapolis
delayed. Alone I munch
on Melba toast & mini-cubes

of mild cheddar. Tuck away my laptop,
make sure my ticket is safe in
the inner pocket of my thigh-length

trench, retie my running shoes. Two
children chatter, their brown
palms pressed against the rain-

splattered window. Dad sits two
feet away, calls them to his side
& opens a glossy paperback,

Make Way for Ducklings. Another day
I might have chatted about my patch
of red peppers, showed him photos

of my Torch Pink Begonias but today
I’m a silent observer. Sometimes
it’s enough to be a human

camera, take in a brief slice
of time, an interruption
of joy. All I want is to sit near

the three of them, listen
to the kids’ voices — tender
& high as an otter’s purr — repeat

passages from the book: 
So they chose a cozy spot among the bushes
near the water & settled down to build their nest.

I take these sudden joys
when I can. There’s another 100-year
flood in Tennessee, street

riots in Minneapolis, but in this
moment, trapped for now in time,
there is true delight.