Traveling home

It is Christmastime

and a train crosses the plains

in darkness toward a city

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.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.