Friday, February 06, 2009
Window on a February Train
He sat on the train and watched the white and gray-brown world unroll.
The wheels on the rails clicked. Steam smoked from houses, and somewhere deer bedded in the patches of forest between.
He thought of himself. And people in his life. He let the threads flutter, not knotted down. That was something he learned.
And as dark water trickled by the highway near the station, headphones surrounded him with music like memories. He walked on the rising notes. Lifted. And lived far, far beyond the season passing by.