Why the Earth Loves Trains
And never will forget you
Small times
tell a story.
I don’t know what.
Perhaps you do.
Perhaps the Wabash Cannonball arrived at your station,
smoking and belching its speed.
Perhaps 12,000 red tailed hawks had a convention
in your tight green grass backyard,
And the frightened mice all fled
to eternal slim safety.
Perhaps fresh bought hot T-bone steaks went all on strike,
jumping off the crusty black grills,
picnickers running away in terror,
While bright aluminum garlic salt shakers
applauded
and chipmunks laughed
loudly enough
to scare the neighbors.
Perhaps your lover called you in that deepest night,
and you answered,
sleep now forgotten,
while stars looked down on you,
humbled by your tears.
Perhaps my smartwatch also has stopped,
realizing its Internet connection
is definitely down,
while time so slow
dives headfirst
into the Earth,
chasing carrots and potatoes,
earthworms, too,
Awash in the mystery
of deep dark soil.
________________________
© “John” Lesly Levin 2022
