Flock

Poetry written from the aerodrome

I’ve spent more hours in airports this past month than I have all year, and the few hours I wait on sterilised tiles and under fluorescent lights juxtapose heavily with my 50-acre plot of paradise. I realised I was surrounded by far more people than in my day-to-day, and found a quiet fascination with watching humanity (or some corner of it) bustle around me.

I wrote these words on the vomit bag in the back of the plane seat. I thought of all the stories people carry, all unknown to me, and quietly chuckled at the similarities we share with our four-footed friends we had on our farm…