Sometimes we forget what a wonderful place we are blessed with in our country. We have this broad mix of major cities and their suburbs, small towns tucked away in a rural America that is representative of the origins of our nation, farmlands that help feed the world, and vast stretches of land that are basically untouched and which provide a beauty that is breathtaking.

It is hard to appreciate this sometimes when we are inundated with steady news programs that emphasize the worst in our country, and a political atmosphere that has left us all feeling a little dirty.

But when we step back from that, I have the feeling that there is a place for all of us, if we are smart enough to find it.

For me, I found my place as I was traveling back to Houston from a business trip that had taken me halfway around the world.  I looked out across America from 30,000 feet and knew that I wanted to be part of one of those smaller communities that passed quietly and sedately beneath our wings.

Places is a poem that I wrote about 31 years ago. It was first published in Daydreams (Snap Screen Press) in 2004. I think, for all of us, it is useful to step back from the world and give ourselves some time to think about our individual lives and the decisions we make.

I have never doubted the one I made on that aircraft. I hope you all find what is right for you.

Glenn K. Currie

                                                                         Places

                                                                       

We were chasing the sun

Across the country.

But we were too slow.

Now we fly in its wake

Breathing a trail,

In the gathering darkness.

Below, appearing in the dusk,

Are dollhouse clusters,

Of warm lights.

Small worlds, where evening comes

At measured pace.

Embraced with pleasure.

Towns where people walk,

Looking up to see

Pastel streaks in the sky.

Places without names,

Quickly fading.

Lost behind the horizon.

Places that never knew,

That they were lost.

But hope they won’t be found.