morning train whistle moans
calling to me, singing to me
double-stacked memories
on distant flatcars, aged
steel rumbles on rusted track
through Videtta’s sandpits —
a pre-Apollo lunar landscape
purple boulders, dark loam piles
borders for pheasants
running to flight
in windblown cattail fields
past the Five Corners, a B&M
blue locomotive level-crosses
into a fading July dusk
ditch lights on
horn sounding four times
off in the distance
a morning train whistle moans
© chuck a stetson 2012
