Thursday, August 15, 2024

8-15-2024

 In Nashville just before dawn the not-so far off train

Whistles while it works, while i lie in bed

and wonder as many likely do: why does it sound again

and again, every morning, in this way? What is ahead

that it tries to warn? Perhaps a deer or moose

who daily mistakes its call for a mate long gone

from the one time the conductor, in the caboose,

forgot to call to remind the engineer on the phone,

By joking, "Dinah, won't you blow your horn?"

And the result was a sad loss of wildlife.

Straying from a field of summer corn

just long enough to get crossed out in strife

in the single headlight, frozen for all time.

My thoughts break at the alarm's chime.