The Airplanes Coming Indoors Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Then there is a womb opened in a new
Holiday,
Bright with her children and blind snow storms:
All of the wolves make a surplus
Around the orchard of her
Little house,
And the snakes hang down from their
Christmas trees,
Tired from their gossiping,
And her father’s car, and her husband’s car
Wait outside—
The day is equally beautiful, and she lays brown-
Eyed with her children
And never has to worry about the airplanes
Coming indoors.