Whose flights these are I don't really know.
They're taking off for international points, though;
People all see me stopping here
To watch my gadgets fill up to go.
My little laptop must think it queer
To stop here with my own gate so near
Between Starbucks and Sushi-make
The darkening evening of mid-year.
It needs some time for the wi-fi to take
Like my laptop thinks there's some mistake.
Concourse sounds through my head sweep
Noises and announcements of raucous make.
Miami International is hardly lovely or deep,
But I have promises (and a flight) to keep,
And thousands of miles to go before I sleep,
And thousands of miles to go before I sleep.
(Apologies to Robert Frost.)