Voyagers
[This poem originally appeared on my section of the IES Abroad Student Blog. You can visit it here.]
My cat stares with wary eyes
at the suitcase by the door.
Her gray ears alert, tail twitching
against the carpet.
She watches me water the flowers
and disturb the bees,
whose business will continue
when I am gone.
I imagine the Atlantic rolling
far beneath the wings
of planes and gulls -
immense blue fathoms stretching
to lap against horizons
curving in distant haze.
At night the moon,
swollen with proximity,
will filter into the silent cabin
through half-drawn plastic shades.
By morning we will reach the Continent
and ruffle our feathers
in the air our ancestors
left behind.
Blown there by various winds
and a thousand reasons,
we will build new nests
in unfamiliar treetops.
And soon we will begin
to chirp and chatter
to a different tune,
the song not stopping
but only changing key.