Twas an ordinary flying fellow
Heading home down the lane;
Thought he’d go visit
With his dear old lady again.
The lighted clock was now lit
While a train wailed from afar—
A local passing thru Ashland Town:
A manifest: car after car after another car.
Squirrels darted in and out the bushes
While that station camera squeezled back around.
Street lights spit alive then…at last…caught on.
In the chatroom, loving care shared all over by the pound.
Another new Summer night, half-moon graced a languid sky—
But crossing lights started to go on for poor old Myrtle Street:
Ditch lights slow grew to peek out from the lush trees
But station bells sounded behind! Could we all hope for a meet?
Our ordinary fellow was sure home with his gal,
A far flung flying day had found the setted Sun
And her tisker-taskets of screens and councils were finally over—
Vashlanders hooted or saluted, another day universally well-done.
A Winter Southbound
The fallen leaves scattered across the tracks,
Southbound 53 would push these farther on.
A love that was empty as Ashland’s winter trees—
A hard weight was lifted now that she’d gone.
No tears, but also no joy, would be found here.
Yes, may the very best find its way over to her;
And should any good be left over hanging out
Perhaps might could entertain here along with Jack’s purr.
Santy Claus is due to arrive in a few days
And we’ve all tried to be and to do our best;
But sometimes it’s never close to good enough
And you cancel flights along with all the rest.
Maybe in the new year happiness real will come
And everyone can breathe and let it all just be;
Festivals and dances return for our lives renewed
And I can get back to that crescent bend in the Mississippi.
The southbound blew its horn passing thru Ashland town
And the online chatroom railfans counted up all the cars.
The empty trees shimmied in the rolling winter wind;
The resettled leaves looked up and counted up all the stars.