Traveling home

By

It is Christmastime

and a train crosses the plains

in darkness toward a city

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of lights that floats ahead

appears and disappears

like a mirage.

Our window reflects us now;

darkness flattens the land-

scape, and silvers the glass

as we wait for strings

of light to crisscross

small-town streets

and join us to our past.

It is Christmastime

and even those who do

not believe in Bethlehem

believe in light.

And the city of light

flickers ahead.

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