#2493 -- poem on the little train (Eizan Railway)

 

2493

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30.x.26

poem on the little train

Eizan Railway

 

train to beautiful places

bound for such parts as you’d read in a book

 

with a chugachug on and no whistle to blow

 

you open the page of doors

and there’s the driver at his little window

taking your ticket – window up, window down

 

white glove and a microphone

he must be as old as the train

 

watches for the signal, slows, gestures to himself

 

all the way the train’s fighting the rails

 

with creak and a twist and an on we go

 

out of the town and into the forest

 

someone has scraped half the mountain away

… still… there’s half a mountain left

 

trees reach

they’re beside themselves to be here

 

here’s a shout and a yoshi

           and on

deeper we ride into the season

 

the river is roaring beside us

follows along every step of the way

 

the river runs on when we’re gone