bearer, to the new generation

If all of the metal

were melted down

in this foothills town

all the rails

with their humming

of longed-for arrivals

all the nails

holding our homes straight upright

all the girder and truss

with their hard love for safety

all our fence, all our fears

standing sentry at night.

The blood moon arises

the seeing stars know

the sleeping town murmurs

of snow.

—