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                    A Travelers Night
                      By Mike Klemm
'Twas the night before Christmas
as they stood side by side,
the weather was frigid
but they walked with such pride.

I was traveling to Dallas, to Paris,
and Rome.
but stopped when I spotted these
marchers walking alone.

I looked at the travelers as they moved on their way,
they walked past our marchers
with nothing to say.

With bags filled with presents, for family and friends.
they moved through the airport
eager for their travels to end.

Throughout the day and
into dusks waning light
the marchers held cadence
as they walked through the night.

While others stayed home all
snug and secure,
these marchers walked miles
Sub zero temps they endured.

On occasion a traveler would
glance toward these few,
and wonder what drives them
to come back each day anew.

I studied these marchers trying to listen to some,
what was their story,
from where had they come?

Mechanics, Cleaners, and Custodians
the signs they carried read,
these marchers were Union
a picket line they now tread.

Where once t'was their duty passenger safety they ensure,
now forced to the picket line
with conditions no one could endure

They struck for their jobs
for benefits and wages,
to battle mismanagement
that had plagued them for ages.

For on the backs of the workers
management will always lay blame,
unable to acknowledge it was their failure
their blunders, their shame.

I couldn't help but wonder
of the picketers still  home,
of these brave men and women
this Union marching alone.

As I stood watching these
brave picketers with such pride,
the thought of their struggle
brought forth tears
I could not hide.

For this battle is labor's,
for workers of all kind,
but so many just stood silent
as if deaf and blind.

For Labor united,
cannot be undone,
how could they forget this lesson,
in blood labor had won.

As I stood there beside them
I could not help but weep,
not just for these workers
but all the others asleep.

For the Scabs, these betrayers
of their friends and of labor,
whose judgment is coming
for in hell they are favored.

I didn't want to leave on
this cold winters night,
to leave these guardians of labor
so willing to fight.

Then a picketer walked over
with a voice strong and true,
"Its alright Santa
we've both work to do:

"Remember our struggle, and how Labor still has fight".
Watch out for stray parts from those Red Tails in flight."
Merry Christmas,
to all
to all a good flight.

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