conductor

the train navigates morning
the water below the trestle
skin as black as burnt sugar
the river with ripples like raisins
train speaking in tongues
in rhythm, almost out of breath
the birds speak hearsay and happenstance
the wind, the craftsman
builds clouds, whistles spring
sprinkles rain off his paint brush
purple clouds
baby blue sky
soft wallpaper
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you died
train passengers look this way and that
the train tracks keep coming
sun watches trees
1983, the toy train under our Christmas tree
the earth has become small
sky so vast, moves so fast
I will wait to crumble
till I'm home
closer to dad's ashes
Mom's tears
the train breaks daylight
moon contemplates night