When You Are Sitting in Coach on a Delta flight

Hello my field daisies!

I know I have skipped a few days of posting, and I will probably be pretty busy next week since it’s my boyfriend’s birthday week…

So to satisfy your appetite, here is a little poem I wrote 4 years ago on 9/28/12. I felt like it was appropriate with the election going on.

When You Are Sitting in Coach on a Delta flight

When you are sitting in coach on a Delta flight,

On the way from San Francisco to Atlanta,

And there are babies crying behind you,

And half cans of soda served with dry pretzels…

And ahead of you there is only a dingy blue curtain

that separates you and first class…

It makes you wonder.

And then you look outside at your little port window,

And you realize,

There are no state lines.

Just a beautiful, giant expansion of land, of mountains and rivers,

Little neighborhoods and cars on highways,

People as tiny as ants themselves, trying their best to

Get through the day.

State lines mean nothing.

This is the United States of America.